


Poco a Poco

by nommunication



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: sabriel_mini, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nommunication/pseuds/nommunication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>St Alban’s School of The Holy Trinity is a private institution whose prestigious orchestra has earned itself the nickname “The Heavenly Host”. This semester, the Host has graciously allowed a few musicians from the public high school to join them; that’s where Sam Winchester comes in. He hoped that he could keep his flute down and quietly enjoy this opportunity without Dean punching one of the rich assholes in the face, but apparently he’s doomed to catch the attention of the loud-mouthed French horn player who sits behind him and has a height inferiority complex.</p><p><b>Warnings:</b> non-penetrative sexytiems (participants aged at least 16) and terrible, <i>terrible</i> puns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. WEEK ONE - Primo

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution for the 2012 [Sabriel Minibang](http://sabriel-mini.livejournal.com/), so it comes with art! Drawn by the awesome strikertrick and found [here](http://strikertrick.livejournal.com/4112.html).
> 
> For a playlist of the pieces mentioned in the fic or translations of the chapter titles, head to [Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/527002/chapters/933053).
> 
> And also, it starts in Dean's perspective but it is mostly from Sam's & Gabriel's points of view with chunks of Dean's thrown in. Just sayin'.

St Alban’s School of The Holy Trinity was a private institution for the children of the rich and religious. Their most notable extracurricular was their orchestra, which had won more competitions than it had members. It had earned itself the nickname “The Heavenly Host” for the angelic sound of its music, the suspicion that there must be divine intervention to be that successful, and the apparent trend for these rich-and-religious parents to name their kids after angels.

Having already swept the board at this year’s competition season, the school had this semester decided to run a “Community Inclusion” project. Or, as Dean put it, “look how nice we are, letting the poor kids play with our orchestra.”

Dean Winchester is here for several reasons (pandering to pretentious asshole rich kids not being one of them). His main excuse is that he’s here for Sam. Sam had actually wanted to be involved, get a chance to play at a level their public school just didn’t provide. He wasn’t a particular fan of classical music, but he wanted to make sure Sammy didn’t get stick for not being rich, and then the Host’s percussionist had broken a hand and somehow Dean was being moved from alright-on-a-drum-kit to heavenly-orchestra’s-timpani-player. Plus, it gets him out of double French on a Thursday afternoon.

He has to admit, there’s something really satisfying in the deep rumbles of the kettle drums. He’d had a crash course in reading the sheet music from Sam, and then it was really just hitting at the right time – which any monkey could do. He also likes that he’s at the back, and because the room has several levels he’s boosted up and overlooking the rest of the orchestra. On his peripheral vision he keeps an eye on Sammy, but his main focus – well it’s supposed to be on Chuck, the conductor, but instead his gaze is drawn to the left - in particular, to one of the guys on cello.

Cello guy is slight, with a shock of dark hair that’s mostly standing on end, and he’s kinda far away but Dean thinks he can make out bright blue eyes. The St. Alban’s suit uniform looks good on him, though the tie is on wonky - but then that might just be from where he’s been playing. And man, his playing. He’s completely absorbed, gazing intently at his music (except for when he looks up at the conductor) and he moves so naturally, so elegantly. It’s why Dean’s staring. The playing. Honestly.

The timpani haven’t kicked in yet and Dean’s pretty much zoned out of everything else. In fact, he would have missed his cue completely except that the music gets stopped when somebody else misses their entrance.

“Gabriel” says Chuck, “Horn pickup, where were you?”

~

Gabriel was looking forward to this community project thing. He didn’t have especially high hopes for the public school’s offering of musicians, but it would mean fresh bait for his pranks and would hopefully dilute the concentration of I’m-so-great elitist in the room.

He hasn’t had much chance for assessment yet, but he’s found himself sat behind a new kid on the flute. Well, he says kid; the boy must be some kind of half-sasquatch because he’s huge. The instrument looks like a twig in his hands. But he has to admit, the kid plays it with an unexpected grace. He knows this because he’s been staring at the back of him while waiting to come in.

He’d caught a proper look at the guy during the break, and it’d taken him all of two seconds to decide that he was hot. So now he’s sitting here trying to think of a non-sleazy way to talk to the guy. Because it tends not to go down well, especially if it turns out (as it often does) that the guy is straight.   Unfortunately this isn’t easy for Gabriel – and it’s made worse by the fact this guy ( _Sam_ , he corrects himself, he’d heard him being called Sam) plays flute. I mean, there are just way too many innuendo provided by that. Blowing, fingering, length, the wood in woodwind and boy does he hope nobody is telepathic.

“Gabriel! Horn pickup, where were you?”

Shit, he missed his cue. He scrabbles around for a response, because you can’t exactly say “sorry I was staring at the hot guy on the flute instead of paying attention.”

What comes out of his mouth is “Well it’s kinda hard to see you conducting when there’s this big moose blocking my vision.”

~

Oh, crap.

Sam has no doubt that he is the “big moose” in question, what with the voice coming from close behind him and the flutists or either side of him being girls who probably don’t even hit 5’6”. Embarrassed, he tries to sink lower in his chair with little success. He can feel himself turning red as other players turn to look. He had hoped that, even if he would never really fit in here, he could at least not stand out. Apparently that was asking too much.

There are mutters, some sniggers, and Sam is resolutely not turning around to see who this “Gabriel” is. He just slumps silently waiting for them to be called back to attention.

“Hey, why don’t you just shift your chair round then? Or would that not leave enough room for your ego?”

And, great, now his brother is jumping into the situation; trying to fight Sam’s battles when there wasn’t even a battle to begin with.

“Oh, because you’d know all about that. Or maybe not. Those big drums compensating for something, kiddo?”

Before Dean can retort the conductor is saying “That’s enough, thank you. Gabriel, I expect you to treat our guests with a little more respect. Dean, please don’t let Gabriel provoke you.”

Sam knows Dean will want to answer back, so he twists round to give Dean a “please don’t make this worse” look. This basically means puppy-dog eyes because he knows they always work. Sure enough, Dean sullenly shuts his mouth and nods. Before he turns back around he sneaks a look at Gabriel. He’s smiling innocently up at the conductor, leaning exaggeratedly to one side so he can see past Sam. He has dark blonde hair swept back off his face, golden brown eyes and when he catches Sam looking, a smirk that’s half smug, half suggestive and fully satisfied with the trouble he’s caused.

It does not look hot. No. Not one bit.

Sam turns back around very quickly.


	2. WEEK TWO - Scherzando

This week, Sam hopes that he’ll be able to get through this rehearsal unnoticed. He hopes that the seating arrangements won’t be the same so that that Gabriel guy doesn’t have to complain about him being in the way.

They arrive late, which is never a good start. Dean’s managed to land himself a detention for that lunchtime and Crowley is not the kind of teacher who will let you off so you can go play in an orchestra. Sam’s at least gained them some time back by getting Dean’s lunch for him, so although everyone’s seated when they get to St. Alban’s most oversized music room, they haven’t started playing just yet. Dean manages to easily slip unnoticed into his position behind the drums, but Sam has to edge his way halfway to the front and then into his row to sit down. As he quickly unpacks his flute at the back of the room he scans for a free seat and notices a gap between the heads of the flutists he sat between last week. And the gap is right in front of Gabriel. Dammit.

The musicians have all started tuning up as he slips down the edge of the seats, and then carefully navigates the chairs and stands to get to his place, muttering apologies as he goes. As he gets closer he can’t see a chair and starts to worry he’ll have to go all the way back out and get one. When he reaches the gap, he finds that there _is_ something provided for him to sit on after all.

Except that it isn’t a chair. It’s a stool, and probably a footstool at that because it stands barely a foot off the ground. One of those old chintz affairs you expect to see in Granny’s sitting rooms and not in a classroom. But lo and behold, here it is and Chuck’s calling everyone to attention and Sam really doesn’t want to make a fuss and stand out again so he has no choice but to sit down.

It’s humiliating, awkward and uncomfortable. The springs have gone almost completely, sagging dramatically and making him sit another two inches lower than he expected, resting on a weird, lumpy-spring-and-not-enough-padding cushion. His head is now about level with the shoulders of the girls either side of him. His knees are practically level with his sternum and when he tries stretching his legs out instead he knocks the chair of the guy in front, who glares at him. The girl he shares a music stand with, Heather or Hester or something like that, is at least kind enough to lower it so the score is at a midpoint between their two heights. Still, he has to stretch up to see and he can definitely feel a nasty crick developing in his neck.

He doesn’t suspect for more than two seconds that this is an accident. This must have been Gabriel. But why did he have to be such a dick? What has Sam done to him? He can’t help being tall, or where he’s been sat. Maybe it was just an excuse to pick on the new kid, the poor kid from the public school. (It’s not even like they’re poor, they just aren’t rich enough to send their kids to private school.) All he can really do is suck it up and hope the guy will have had enough after one week.

~

Dean spends his first few minutes of rehearsal ducked down behind the timpani set, sneakily finishing his pizza under the guise of checking the tension and attachments of the drum skins. He hopes Sammy gets to his seat okay and assumes he does because he doesn’t hear him getting told off.  Then when the conductor calls them to attention he quickly wipes the grease off on his jeans and straightens up, grabbing his mallets ready to play.

As they go over the first movement Dean really has to concentrate on his cues and reading the score, since the timpani part is woven tightly into the other parts. When they move on to the next movement, though, he has nothing past the twelfth bar and can relax a bit. He instinctively looks around to check up on Sammy. He scans over the room quickly to find the head four inches above everyone else’s and comes up blank. Weird. He looks again, more closely. He finds the flute section, looks along and finally sees the mop of Sam’s hair – resting at least a foot lower than it should be. He can’t see the exact cause through the people in the way, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out somebody has fucked with his brother’s seat. These fucking pretentious douchebags. But which one was it?

There’s nothing he can do about it while they’re still rehearsing but as soon as Chuck announces break time he rushes over to where Sam is sitting. As he approaches he sees that dick who called Sammy out last week step up behind his brother and mess his hair, saying “Much better height this week, kiddo. Good thing your moose antlers haven’t grown yet or I’d still have been unable to see Chuck.”

Dean supresses the urge to punch this Gabriel guy in the face. He also resists the urge to simply send the chairs and instruments separating him and Sam flying in order to get there sooner and have a go at this douchebag. However, Sam does turn round and give Gabriel his prime bitchface, which is pretty impressive even if it does make him look like a girl. By the time Dean has navigated his way around to Sam Gabriel is gone. Now he’s close, he can see the sorry excuse for a seat that Sam’s been forced to sit on.

“Gabriel did that, didn’t he?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Sam nods anyway.

“I am going to find him and –“

“Dean, don’t. Firstly because you know causing trouble here will never do us any good, and secondly it’s not your battle to fight.”

“But were you even planning on fighting back?”

Sam shrugs.

“You can’t just let him get away with it Sammy.”

“But what can I do?”

“I dunno. Fuck with his horn?”

“No. I can’t do that. You don’t mess with a musician’s instrument, Dean. He only messed with my seat…”

Sam’s face suddenly lights up and Dean knows he’s got an idea.

Sam rushes off to the other side of the room, thankfully easier to navigate now that nearly all the students have left to go raid the vending machines or enjoy a few minutes in the sunshine. Dean obediently switches Sam’s seat for one of the spare chairs stacked in the corner of the room. When that’s done, he looks up to see Sam making his way back around to him. In his arms he’s carrying one of the bar-stool height seats usually reserved for the double bassists. Dean grins.

“Brilliant, Sammy.”

They quickly swap Gabriel’s seat for the high one, place his horn atop it and get back into their places as the other students start filing back in.

~

When Gabriel had seen Sam’s hot head of an older brother make his way over to them he’d made his exit pretty sharply. Once he’s escaped out into the sunshine – via getting a candy bar from the vending machines – he searches out his friends to tell them about his awesome prank.

Balthazar is appreciative, at least. Castiel smiles a little but seems to be mostly concerned for the poor Sasquatch’s welfare and thinks Gabriel was “being mean”. Gabriel finds himself funny enough for the both of them.

At the end of break Gabriel makes them hang back a little, only going back in at the last minute so that he’s less likely to get confronted about the prank. He notices that Sam has found himself a new chair; then notices that _his_ chair –

“Well it looks like they found an alternate solution to your height problem.” says Balthazar, chuckling. Gabriel’s somewhat dumbstruck to see the chair left for him, at least a foot higher than a chair has any right to be. What’s more, he’s got himself caught in the same situation Sam had earlier, no time to change the chair and no choice but to sit in it. He wipes the surprise from his face, slides his trademark smirk into place as if to convince the Host that this was totally meant to happen, and climbs into the chair.

He fares worse than Sam. The angle he has to look down at to see the music is awkward; his horn gets in the way. He leans forward to get a better look and finds himself fighting to not slide off the edge of the chair. He can see Balthazar sneaking glances and trying not to laugh as he plays, no sympathy at all. He can even see Cas clearly from up here, and he’s smirking too. Traitors.

He supposes if this were a fairy tale this taste of his own medicine would teach him how it makes others feel to be the victim of his pranks and make him resolve to be a good boy from now on. He at least resolves to not prank Sam any more, but that’s because Sam just won his respect. Nay, his admiration. Sure the kid is hot, but now he’s just made himself an order of magnitude more awesome in Gabriel’s eyes. So okay, this is not a fairy tale - but he is swiftly turning this into some cheesy high school rom com and he really should pay attention to the conductor if he doesn’t want to miss a cue like last week.

~

When Chuck calls and end to the rehearsal Sam turns around to finally get a glimpse of his handiwork. He’d resolutely not looked during rehearsal, though he’d been listening to every struggle Gabriel had had with balance and the music stand with triumph. Now Sam’s just in time to see the short musician slide off his high stool and return to his normal height. Gabriel sees him watching and says, “Touché, kiddo. Tou-fugging- ché”.

There’s a smile with it, and it looks like it’s promising something. Sam hopes it isn’t revenge.


	3. WEEK THREE - Adagio

When Thursday rolls around again Dean has managed to catch some nasty bug that means today he won’t be going anywhere further than his bedroom or, at the whim of his stomach, the bathroom. He’s pretty tough; normally he’ll shrug off or ignore illness pretty easily. But the inability to hold down food is rather debilitating and he has no choice but to stay at home.

Not that he’s complaining about missing school. And sure it would have been fun to work out some anger management on the timpani but he’ll cope just fine with missing his weekly dose of rich douchebag contact.

Except, crap, if he isn’t going then how is Sammy going to get to rehearsal? Dad is out at work all day and yeah they’re not the only kids from their school on the program but they barely know the others so Sam can’t exactly ask to go with them. The school is too far away to walk in lunch break and they haven’t got the spare cash for a taxi. It would suck for his brother to miss out and he doesn’t want Sam to be left behind for missing a rehearsal.

As it turns out, he needn’t have worried. Sam comes to check in on him before he leaves for school and tells Dean that he’s already got it all sorted: there’s a bus that passes their school that will take him three quarters of the way to St. Albans, and then he’s printed out Google maps to take him the rest of the way there.

“I had to pack a lunch to be sure I have enough time to get there, but then I can use my lunch money for the bus. So I’ll be fine. ”

“Uh, great.” Dean says weakly, “When did you have time to plan all this?”

“When I was woken up by you hurling at 5:40 this morning I figured I’d need to sort a plan B.”

“And yet you didn’t think to come and see if your hurling older brother was okay?”

“Dude, you’re grouchy as hell when you’ve been woken up early. Combine that with vomit and no way was I going near that.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam replies, but he comes forward and sets a glass of water, fizzing with dissolving tablets, on Dean’s bedside table.

“I’ve gotta go to school now. Don’t be an idiot and strain yourself, okay?”

“Hey, I’m meant to be the one that looks after you. Don’t let the heavenly douches dick with you, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye!”

Once Sam’s left Dean takes a swig from the glass. The medicine makes the water taste gross, but it’s still better than the residual taste of puke and he forces himself to drink it all. Then he rolls over and tries to go back to sleep.

~

Although Dean seems to forget that he is sixteen, not six, Sam is in fact perfectly capable of looking after himself. He would have gone to the orchestra alone in the first place; Dean didn’t have to join it with him. Okay, it was nice that he hadn’t had to face it alone the first week, and it was nice having someone to talk to there, but he would have managed on his own.

It does take all of lunch, but Sam manages to get to St. Alban’s on time. Just. He’s grateful their lunch break runs 15 minutes after his. He is not particularly grateful at the inefficiency of public transport. Once he gets to the room, he’s relieved to see that all the chairs are standard size. He sits down quickly before that can change.

The first half of rehearsal is, thankfully, uneventful. Sam’s awkwardly self-conscious when he has to speak up and tell the conductor that Dean is sick, but apart from that he keeps his head low (metaphorically, at least)  and manages to actually relax and enjoy playing.

As he dismisses them for break, Chuck says, “After break we’re going to work on Pachelbel’s Canon in D, so I only need the strings. Everyone else stay in the vicinity though - the principal will have my ass if I let you run wild and free.”

There are a few chuckles from the students.

“Seriously though, it’s still technically class and if you skip it that gets me in trouble too. And I know deep down you all actually like having me as your conductor. Heh. Okay, off you go now.”

Sam’s not sure if he counts since he’s not technically a student here, but he figures it’s safer to stay. Even though it means now he has an extra hour on his own to kill. He’d been fine with the idea of spending the break alone, but the prospect of spending an extra hour looking like a loser in unfamiliar territory doesn’t sound all that grand. He packs his flute up and goes to find somewhere to wait this out.

Because the music department is in its own building (the school isn’t that big, but they take their music that seriously). It has a break room with water fountains, vending machines and a scattering of chairs and tables. Sam takes a seat in the corner and pulls out his copy of _The Great Gatsby_ along with a pencil so he can continue annotating it for class.

It’s only a couple of minutes later when he hears somebody saying in an obnoxiously loud voice, “I mean, you’d think they’d have heard of ‘advance notice’ before but apparently not. Or maybe they just enjoy making some of us haul heavy timpani sets out – which we do as a favour and so kindly have been letting them use – unnecessarily.”

Sam looks up to see who this dick is, though he doesn’t recognise him further than ‘brass section’. The guy looks at Sam pointedly before turning back to his friend and continuing, “Or maybe they just don’t teach common courtesy in public schools anymore.”

Sam knows he should just ignore the guy, but even though he has more of a level head than Dean he’s still a Winchester.

“And when did ‘arrogant douchebag’ classes start featuring on the private school curriculum?”

The guy seems surprised at Sam’s retort.  Sam’s a little surprised himself.

“Well, that’s precisely the uncultured sort of behaviour which shows why public school students shouldn’t have been allowed to play with the Host.  But then, maybe if we teach him some respect-“

“Woah, woah, Zachy!” pipes a voice Sam recognises. Over Zach’s shoulder he can see the top of a head. Then Gabriel pushes between ‘Zachy’ and his friend to stand in front of them.

“Did you get one of the timpani sticks shoved up your ass while you were setting it out? Wait, no, that couldn’t have been it, because you don’t set it out! You watch over while whatever freshmen you scared this week set it out.”

Gabriel is brandishing a bitten-off Twix at the guy accusingly. It’s being observed with distaste.

“I-“

“So how about you just skip along now and stop spraying your douchebaggery over the guest musicians. It’s impolite.”

“I don’t-“

“Now.”

To Sam’s slight amazement, instead of, say, punching Gabriel in the face, the two guys saunter off. Gabriel takes a triumphant bite of the Twix and turns to face Sam.

“I apologise on his behalf.” The chocolate bar is stuffed somewhat comically into one cheek so he can speak.

“Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to jump in there.”

“Oh what, and let those guys pick on you? I would have got there as soon as I heard him open his mouth but I was mid-chocolate-buying. Can’t leave a vending machine mid-purchase.”

“I could have taken care of it myself...” Sam feels obliged to say.

“No you couldn’t. You’d have got your ass kicked.” Gabriel says matter-of-factly. “If it’s any consolation, I would have too were it not that Zachariah has been taught to respect his elders.”

“And you’re his elder?” Sam’s dubious.

“Well, not by age, I’m a year below him. But I own his ass at playing brass - which is what counts in this orchestra’s sense of hierarchy.”

Sam laughs.

“So, fascinating as...” Gabriel tips Sam’s book up so he can read the title “ _The Great Gatsby_ is, how about you come with me and I introduce you to some St. Alban’s students who aren’t assholes?”

Sam can’t help but be a little suspicious.

“What’s the catch?”

“Catch? Well, you’ll have to socially interact with someone other than your brother.”

“Ha ha,” Sam responds dryly, “but seriously. My first week here you called me out for being too tall and then the next week you swapped my chair for that awful stool thing. For all I know I’ll come with you and be taken out by the kneecaps.”

Gabriel snorts at the idea.

“Look, kiddo. I play pranks, it’s what I do. And whenever I do it to these rich kids they either get inordinately pissed at me or they give me this withering disappointed look. But you? You pranked me back! And a trickster’s gotta respect that. So I’m, uh-” he holds out his right hand “-extending the hand of friendship. If you want it.”

Sam’s still a little uncertain. But then, this might actually be his chance to fit in here just the slightest, and it beats sitting in the corner forever alone with F. Scott Fitzgerald. He knows if he’d pranked Dean it would have escalated into a full on war, but Gabriel sounds genuine enough. He’s smirking like it’s what comes most naturally but there’s an edge of uncertainty to it – it’s not as broad as usual.

Sam figures he may as well take the guy’s offer.

~

Gabriel is starting to worry he’s put his foot in his mouth again. The hand of friendship thing is cheesy as hell but he’d blanked on what to say next. And now Sam is staring at his hand like he’s waiting for it to bite him.

But eventually, the kid smiles, drops his book into his bag, hooks the bag over his shoulder and grabs Gabriel’s hand.

“Okay.” He says, shaking their hands once. Sam’s hand is huge and makes his own look like it belongs to a twelve year old. Then Sam’s letting go but before he can Gabriel grips tight and pulls him up off the chair. He revels in the contact when Sam retightens his grip in response and it hits him that yeah, he has a pathetically big crush on this guy. Which Sam doesn’t need to know just yet since it would probably just freak him out and on that basis Gabriel drops their hands once Sam is standing.

“Follow me, Sasquatch.” He heads out of the break room.

“Just Sam, please.”

“Samsquatch?”

“No.”

“Aw. Maybe you are no fun after all.” He turns round and smirks at Sam to show he’s kidding. He gets a tentative smile in return. Just enough to show that, by God, Sam even has dimples.

He leads Sam out into the grassy courtyard of the music building and over to where Cas and Balthazar are sat. As they approach, he can hear Cas ranting.

“I mean, what does this Johann guy even have against cellists? Did a cellist stand him up on a date? Mock his violin? Ugh.”

Gabriel turns to Sam.

“Sam, this is Balthazar and Castiel. Yes, we all got saddled with stupid names. Balthazar is the one with the fruity British accent, he plays oboe; Castiel is a cellist and is therefore the one currently moaning about having to play Pachelbel’s canon.”

“Well, do you blame me? It is the. Worst. Cello part. Ever.”

“Yeah, yeah, quit whining and say hello to Sam here.”

They greet each other dutifully. Gabriel drops himself on to the grass opposite Cas and Balth; Sam stays standing, awkwardly unsure.

“Come on, Sam.” Gabe says impatiently, and he reaches for Sam’s hand again to pull him down. Sam gets the idea and sits. And now Sam probably thinks he has a hand fetish or something because he keeps grabbing it. Which was not what he was aiming for.

Okay, Sam probably doesn’t think he has a fetish. He probably thinks Gabriel’s a little overly touchy with everybody. Balthazar, on the other hand, knows better and raises an eyebrow at him. He ignores it.

There’s an awkward pause when nobody is quite sure what to say next. It’s actually Sam who breaks it.

“Castiel, why do hate Pachelbel’s Canon?”

Gabriel knows from experience that Cas can rant about this until the cows come home, but at least it’s a conversation. Well, monologue.

“Because, Sam, Pachelbel wrote one of the most well-known and frequently played string pieces ever, and the cello part for that piece – the Canon in D - consists of the same eight note pattern repeated fifty-four times.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. Wow. I mean I understand it’s a lovely piece: the first violins get lovely melodies, the violas get lovely melodies, and even the second violins get lovely melodies. But the cellists get only excruciating boredom.”

Castiel’s watch beeps at him. He checks it.

“And now I have to go and suffer that for an hour. And pray to God that he doesn’t want to practice it more next week.”

He stands up and brushes the grass off his pants.

“Sam, nice meeting you. Gabriel, Balthazar, if Michael is found dead from a cello bow to the chest please don’t let the cops know it was me.”

And with that he leaves. Gabriel and Balthazar chuckle at Castiel’s final comment but Sam looks confused – and a little wary.

“Who’s this guy Castiel wants to stab?”

“Michael.” Balthazar tells him. Sam’s expression doesn’t change.

 “The principal violinist?”  There’s a hint of recognition, but not much.

“Do you not know who anybody is in this orchestra?” Balthazar asks exasperatedly.

“Well, no. It’s not like any of them have interacted with me apart from you guys. Well, and Hester, but only so far as the obligation of sharing a music stand.”

“Well then Sam,” says Gabriel “we better clue you in on who’s who in the Heavenly Host. I’d get comfortable if I were you.”

Sam leans back on his elbows, stretches out in the sun. And bloody hell, this kid seems to go on forever. His shins are lying in front of Gabriel’s crossed legs, his left foot almost poking them. The hem of his ridiculous plaid shirt has pulled up enough to show a half inch of boxer waistband and a half inch of tan skin. And okay, he really needs to stop looking now.

Balthazar flops down on his back, knees bent up and arm flung over his eyes to shade them. He waves the other at Gabriel.

“Okay, you start then. I’ll chip in where necessary.”

“Well,” he begins, “First off there is Michael, the principal violinist like we said. He has the run of the show this semester. I mean, yeah technically Chuck’s in charge but Michael has a knack for getting his own way. For example, he is particularly fond of Pachelbel’s canon. Which is why, even though it only involves strings and the bass part is hated by all who have to play it, they are still doing Pachelbel’s canon. That’s why Cas was considering murder.”

“He was saying he wanted the Devil to come back.” Balthazar chimes in.

“The Devil?” questions Sam, bemused.

“He means the Host’s former principal violinist, who drew the ultimate short straw of angelic names when his parents christened him Lucifer. He also happens to be my brother, but we don’t talk about that.” Answers Gabriel.

“Oh. What happened to him?”

“He had issues with letting the ‘common school kids’ being allowed to play as part of the ‘prestigious St. Alban’s Orchestra’. Deemed you all unworthy. It’s unclear whether he quit or was kicked out, but either way the shining star of the string section was replaced by Michael.”

“Rumour has it Michael forced him out,” says Balthazar “so he could get the top spot, not because he necessarily disagreed with Luci.”

“Yep.” Agrees Gabriel. “So now Michael’s got the lead. And then there’s Raphael, who’s kinda like his second in command in terms of lording it over the rest of us. He’s on double bass. Then those dicks from the break room were Zachariah and Uriel, who play trombone and bassoon respectively.”

“What were those two doing this time?” asks Balthazar

“Oh, just the usual elitist douchebaggery, but they were aiming it at Sam.”

“This year’s senior year seems to be the worst for arrogant arseholes.” Balthazar comments, “It’s a shame you aren’t here next semester when we’ll be top of the school.”

“I dread to think what would happen if Gabriel managed to be in a position of authority.” Sam says.

“Hey! I object to that. I would be a wonderful leader who is sensible and practical and-” Gabriel can’t keep a straight face any longer. “Yeah that’s bullshit, but I’d sure make it hilarious. And I’d choose funner music to play, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like modern music, adapted for orchestras. You get some awesome orchestral arrangements if you look for them. Like stronger by daft punk, have you heard that cover?”

Sam shakes his head.  Gabriel gives an overdramatic gasp of shock.

“Well this must be remedied at once!”

Gabriel immediately starts rummaging through his pockets. Balthazar apologises for his friend’s tendency to force his music taste on people. Eventually Gabriel has pulled out an iPod, disentangled the headphones, found the right song and is offering it to Sam.

“Put those in, listen, and have an eargasm” he instructs. Sam looks slightly bemused but he takes the iPod and starts to play the track. Gabriel reaches over and nudges Sam’s thumb out the way so he can turn up the volume suitably high. Then he sits back and watches the smile grow on Sam’s face as he closes his eyes and listens.

“Enjoying yourself there, Gabriel?” Balthazar questions, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“Bite me, Balth,” he retorts.

“Ooh, touchy. You know if I didn’t know better I’d say you have a crush on him.”

Gabriel glances at Sam to make sure he’s still listening, oblivious, to the track.

“Oh sure, you know better than to say it – you’ll just constantly imply it until everything becomes weird and awkward. As always.”

“Gabe, I’m hurt, would I do such a thing?”

“Well, that’s how Kali found out I was actually from a highly-catholic-rather-xenophobic family and decided I would turn out just as bad, and dumped me.”

“That again? I said I’m sorry. And also, How would said family react about this one? I mean, at least Kali was a girl.”

“Jeez, Balthazar, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I don’t even know if Sam’s homophobic; my family is a secondary concern. Look, just don’t say anything to him. Don’t imply anything either. Just, let me work this out, okay?” Gabriel finishes with a pleading look for good measure.

“Oh alright, if you’re going to make puppy-dog eyes at me I’ll at least try.” Balthazar concedes.

“That. Was. Awesome.” Announces Sam, pulling off the headphones. Gabriel and Balthazar revert back to giving Sam a who’s-who of the orchestra. Too soon, it’s time to go home.


	4. WEEK FOUR - Giocoso

_Te Deum can be listened to[here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnQj8zBnY7g)_

Dean is fully recovered and back at orchestra by the next week of practice, and Sam dutifully stays with his brother during break. Not that he minds Dean’s company, of course, but he would quite like to go and see Gabriel again, hang out with him and his friends. He can’t just abandon Dean, though. He knows Dean thinks he’s always the one looking after Sam but Sam watches out for his brother, too, and that means not making him hang around on his own in a school mostly full of snobby rich assholes. Of course, he could take Dean with him to find the others, but he has reservations about that. Dean can be abrasive, to put it lightly. Plus there’s that niggling doubt that the hand of friendship extended to him last week may have been withdrawn since, like maybe it was an act of pity or a whim they were acting on. He tries not to think of that, though.

To their surprise they’re approached by a girl, Anna – red hair, first cello – who seems very keen to talk to Dean. It starts with a ‘we missed you last week’ but quickly turns into how Dean is a drummer, and apparently Anna was forced to do cello by her parents but also plays bass guitar, and she can appreciate classical music but really prefers classic rock and yeah she is basically saying all the right things to get Dean interested. And Dean apparently throws brotherly loyalty out the window if there’s a chance of him scoring so Sam, who had stuck around so Dean wouldn’t be on his own, is now being shooed away to go entertain himself, on his own. Jerk.

He can’t see Gabriel, Castiel or Balthazar anywhere indoors but thankfully he can’t see Zachariah or Uriel either. He goes to the bathroom more for something to do than anything else then wanders back through to the rehearsal room. There’s still ten minutes left and all the students avoid the room like they have to savour the freedom of break time to the full. Except he can see now there’s one person in here hunched over an instrument at the back. He’s about to turn around and leave but the door finishes closing with a thump the makes the student look up.

“Gabriel?” Gabriel’s expression of panic relaxes into relief as they recognise each other.

“Sam, Hey!” The little doubting part of Sam is relieved to hear the friendliness in Gabriel’s voice.

“What are you doing?”

Gabriel smirks and lifts the trombone he’s holding.

“Giving Zachariah a little dose of just desserts. Or trying to at least; I could use a hand. Wanna help me?”

Sam considers it. Fucking with someone’s instrument is not something he tends to condone, and if Zachariah caught him fucking with his trombone it could only end badly. Gabriel senses his hesitation and reassures him.

“He’ll never know you helped. He’ll guess it was me but never be able to prove it and won’t be able to do anything back because he knows I’ll always win. And he’s been a dick about you and your brother since you started. He deserves a little payback, don’t you think?”

Sam’s won over in two parts by the persuasive argument and one part by the charming, mischievous smirk Gabriel’s aimed at him. He agrees and walks to join Gabriel by the instrument.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I need to stick this-” Gabriel holds something up “-into the bell of the trombone. Except I want it further in than I can reach and I figure since you’re sasquatch-sized your fingers will be longer and better for the job than mine.

Sam takes the object from Gabriel and inspects it. It’s rubber, mostly, and shaped like the end of a balloon with a wire hoop maybe an inch across holding it open at one end. The dull, dusty pink colour is reminiscent of his childhood and pranking Dean.

“Dude, is this a modified whoopee cushion?”

Gabriel grins in response.

“Bingo! You’re a smart one, kiddo.”

“How did you even come up with something like this?”

“Well, you know, Zachariah talks so much shit…” Sam laughs. “But we better get a move on. I’ve already put on the contact adhesive so you need to reach in and press the open end into place. I’ll try and guide you best I can.”

Sam nods and crouches so he’s level with the trombone, angling it up slightly with one hand and carefully reaching in with the one that’s holding the prank device. His conscience makes a last-ditch effort to tell him this is mean.

“I feel kind of uncomfortable doing this,” he tells Gabriel.

“What, fingering Zachariah’s trombone?”

Sam gives a snort of surprised laughter before cringing.

“Ew, don’t phrase it like that. Now I feel indecent as well.” Gabriel chuckles. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me with this anyway?”

“Okay, okay.”

Gabriel crouches next to Sam and reaches over, laying his hand over the back of Sam’s inside the bell of the trombone.

“Now we’re fingering it together. Happy?”

Sam rolls his eyes.

Gabriel pushes their hands and Sam slides the modified whoopee cushion into the tubing. When it gets to narrow Gabriel slides his hand back so his fingertips are pushing on the base knuckles of the two fingers Sam has inside Zachariah’s instrument – and damn it, thanks to Gabriel it all sounds weird and dirty. He finds himself caught on the warmth and weight of their overlapping forearms; the slight scrape of callouses and the soft dig of nail on the back of his hand; until he tells himself to focus on the prank. When the tube is the same size as the wire hoop Sam presses it into place, feeling the contact adhesive hold it secure. Then they both pull out and the warmth of Gabriel’s hand on his is gone.

“Are you sure it will work?” Sam asks.

“Should do. I just hope he’s too lazy to re-tune - like he usually is - or he’ll notice what we did before we can get any real fun out of it.”

The door opens with the first students returning from break and Sam and Gabriel quickly go back to their seats, Gabriel taking a moment to put Zachariah’s trombone back into its original position. Sam notes Dean coming in with a smug look on his face and deduces his conversation with Anna went well. He’ll bitch to Dean later about being abandoned, but he decides that really he doesn’t mind. Working on the prank with Gabriel definitely made it worthwhile.

~

The piece they are working on in the second half is the Prelude to ‘Te Deum’. Thanks to Balthazar Gabriel knows it’s the theme to the Eurovision song contest, or as Balth calls it ‘an abomination to music which my country still fails to ever win at’. He glances to Balthazar when Chuck announces the piece and is met with a long-suffering look.

Gabriel can hear it almost as soon as they start playing, the rippling _thrrrp_ of the modified whoopee cushion in Zachariah’s trombone. He has to fight to keep from ruining his playing through grinning. He can see on the edge of his vision other musicians turning around as they pick up on the noise. There’s a pause where only strings play, and Gabriel risks a look at Zachariah. He’s staring, comically perplexed, at his instrument. He starts to try and feel for an obstruction in the bell but then it’s the wind section’s turn to play again and he has no choice but to join in, trombone farting the tune out loud and proud as his face becomes continually redder. At one point he tries to dislodge whatever is causing the noise by blowing extra hard, which only makes the loudest fart sound yet so that musicians are sniggering and even Chuck shoots him a concerned look.

Despite the conductor’s efforts the uniform playing is falling apart. Gabriel’s almost doubled over in laughter by now and he can see Sam’s shoulders shaking with it in front of him. Zachariah reaches into the trombone but his stubby, meaty hands can’t quite reach far enough to pull out the thing Gabriel and Sam had placed in there. Finally he storms out in anger, orchestra giggling behind him.

Gabriel pokes Sam in the back to get him to turn around and then holds his palm out

“That was epic, Sam. Low-five?”

Sam grins, flashing his dimples, and slaps his hand into Gabriel’s. It sits there for a brief second and Gabriel resists the urge to grab it, then it’s sliding away and Sam’s turning to face the front again. Chuck calls everyone back to order and the rehearsal continues, without Zachariah. 


	5. WEEK FIVE - Sforzando

It’s Dean and Sam’s fifth week attending St Alban’s Orchestra and Dean still hates the place and the douchebags that wander around as if their fancy uniform makes them so much better than everybody else. Sam insists they weren’t all bad, but he isn’t so sure. Okay, Anna turned out to be pretty cool last week, but even girls with great taste in music could still turn out to be bitches.

As soon as they get to the rehearsal room Sam runs off. Dean at first thinks it must be so he can go unpack his flute and get ready – Sammy gets ridiculously eager for dorky things sometimes – but no, he soon realises it’s so he can go and talk to someone. The short, blonde kid holding the fancy horn (‘French horn’ corrects his head in Sam’s voice) who, if Dean isn’t mistaken, is the guy that humiliated Sam the first two weeks they were here. And now apparently is all chummy with his little brother instead. Dean glares at him suspiciously, though they aren’t looking his way, and mutters about Sammy having an awful judge of character.

While Dean is glaring he sees them both turn, Gabriel guiding Sam with a hand on his shoulder and pointing people out; Sam giving them a small wave. One of them is holding a clarinet or an oboe or something and looking smarmy like it’s his default setting; the next one is – well, it’s the cello guy, the one Dean keeps inadvertently watching play in rehearsal. He looks serious, but then he always does. The look is softened by the permanently-skewed-backwards tie. Cello guy gives Sam a small smile and slight wave of his bow in return and Dean decides that if Sammy’s managed to make friends, he’s at least found one who isn’t likely to be a dick.

As his gaze slides away from that smile Anna catches his eye. He smiles at her half-heartedly. Then he flicks back for one last check on Sammy as orchestra is called to order. The blonde kid (Dean knows he knew what he’s called, but all the –el names blend into one for him) is still standing and now Sam’s sat down he’s leaning his arm on Sam’s shoulder and jeez, how touchy is this guy? Weirdo. He better not be somehow pulling another prank on Sam.

Even though Dean’s been calling this ‘Te Deum’ piece ‘Tedium’ to piss off Sammy when he’s practicing, the loud timpani part is actually quite fun to play. It’s nice to disengage and just focus on banging out the rhythm. He tries watching the conductor, he does, but he knows his cues already and his gaze keeps sliding to watch the dark-haired guy, the one Sam seems to know, earnestly playing the cello.

As usual, when they stop for a break Sam joins Dean in getting drinks out their bags and finding some place to sit. But this time he seems distracted.

“What’s up Sammy?”

Sam takes a moment to answer.

“I was just wandering, um, would you mind if I went and said hi to Gabriel?”

Gabriel. That’s his name.

“You mean the dick who fucked with you the first few weeks?”

Sam flinches.

“He’s not bad really! He’s fine when you get to know him. And he’s the one who pulled the prank on Zachariah last week.”

“Okay, that was awesome. But what’s to say he won’t turn and do something like that to you?”

“He won’t! And it’s not just him, I wanna say hi to Balthazar and Castiel as well. But if you have a problem with it I’ll stay. I feel bad leaving you alone here anyway.”

Which hold up, isn’t right. Dean’s meant to be the one looking out for Sammy. And if Sammy has managed to make friends, he should let him go see them. And say ‘I told you so’ if they are as douchey as he suspects everyone is here.

Then another thought occurs to him. Balthazar and Castiel might be the people Sam was waving to before. Meaning one of them is the cello guy. And suddenly Dean is changing his planned response.

“It’s okay, Sam, you can go find them if you want. But how about I come too, yeah? Best of both worlds.”

Sam sighs.

“Promise not to be a dick just because you think they are?”

“Dude, I don’t just think they are.”

Sam pulls a bitch face.

“Okay, okay, I’ll play nice. Promise.”

~

Sam still has reservations about introducing Dean to his friends, but then he guesses it’s inevitable. He shouldn’t have really worried, because he introduces them, Castiel says ‘hello, Dean’ and then suddenly those two are in a conversation about he’s not even sure what, how long Cas has been playing cello or which angel is he meant to be named after or something.  It leaves Sam free to catch up with Gabriel and Balthazar without worrying Dean is gonna put his foot in it. It’d be nice to chat to Cas, too, but as Balthazar points out Dean will be able to tell him ‘all about Cassie’ later. Maybe this way Dean will have friends here, too.

Dean was convinced Gabriel was a dick, but Sam knows better. Sure he’s a trickster, but it’s good natured and the proper stuff, like last week, only happened to people who deserved it. To Sam he was friendly and teasing, cracking jokes and nudging him in the ribs and messing his hair – or trying to: Sam had to stoop so Gabe could reach properly. Which meant Sam could tease him back for being short. Balthazar was more reserved, with wit that relied on heavy sarcasm, but he was good natured, too – once you understood his humour. He had a permanent smirk on his lips that break, like he knew something the others didn’t, but Sam was pretty sure it was nothing menacing. Gabriel shot a look at Balthazar and assured Sam Balth just enjoyed looking like a smug git.

~

After Balthazar had declared on Wednesday that he was ‘sick of Gabriel pining for Sam’s return’ (which was a complete exaggeration and absolutely not true), he told Gabriel to start finding out if he had a chance with the kid or not - or Balthazar would do it for him.

“But how do I even do that?” He’d asked.

“How do people normally do it? Flirt and see if he flirts back.”

“The problem is,” Castiel interjected, “that Gabriel’s flirting is about as sophisticated as a six-year-old’s. He teases them or is just plain mean to them to get their attention. And the other problem is that he also teases people he isn’t flirting with, just less so. It’s hopeless, really.”

“Oh that’s rich, coming from the starer.” Gabriel snapped back. “At least I don’t get mistaken for a psycho killer.”

“Ladies, ladies, calm down.” Balthazar said. “We need to think about this seriously. Now, Gabriel, I’m not even going to try and turn you into a smooth ladies’ man like I am – or guys’ man I guess in your case – because that will only end disastrously. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to flirt with this kid, even if you flirt like a six-year-old. And you’re gonna use contact to gauge his interest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Getting in his personal space a bit more, touch him – no, not that way – and if he looks uncomfortable about it then you know to stop there. And if he isn’t, amp it up a bit. Okay?”

“Uh, okay, when did you become such the expert?”

“Gabe, please, you know me. It’s my natural talent.”

“Sure.”

“Just don’t go overboard and lose all sense of personal space like Cassie does.”

“Hey!”

“Cas, you’re pressed against my shoulder with half a foot of clear space on the other side.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay; I let a cute little thing like you get away with it.”

Castiel scowled at Balthazar.

“Okay, it’s more that I’ve known you so long I’m used to it. But the point is it’s not what Gabriel normally does, so it’ll mean something if Sam is happy with it - and even better if he retaliates.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am, Gabriel.”

 Which is how, come Thursday, Gabriel’s trying to be extra-friendly to Sam. Or at least friendly in a teasing Gabriel way. And he’s put his hands on Sam’s shoulder and his back and his hair and anywhere non-incriminating and non-exciting. And Sam had been fine with it, even bent down to let Gabriel mess up his hair. But he hasn’t really retaliated yet, so Gabriel figures he was just being nice about it.

When they go back into rehearsal, Gabriel decides to try taking a few liberties. He ruffles Sam’s hair again when he sits down - which earns him a suspicious look from Sam’s brother Dean, though considering the guy’s just spent the last twenty  minutes making cow eyes and hanging on Castiel’s every word, he is in no place to protest.

Then when Chuck decides the violins and clarinets have to work to get their call and response part just so, Gabriel thinks it’s time to sit back and relax. He slouches, picks up his feet and slots them into the back of Sam’s chair. Sam looks round when he feels something nudging his back and his gaze runs from Gabriel’s feet up to his eyes. He raises his eyebrows in a “Seriously?” sort of expression and Gabriel raises one in return, almost daring him to do something about it. Sam just turns back around. Which is, well, boring, but at least he doesn’t mind? Or possibly he’s just given up fending Gabriel off.

Chuck’s still working with the clarinets and now the whole string section. Gabriel is staring at Sam’s back trying to work out if putting his feet on Sam’s chair counts as flirting or just being a bit of a douche. And then he notices Sam’s arm reaching back, feels the weight of Sam’s hand on his leg.

And it’s moving, sliding up from ankle to calf and holy crap is this Sam touching him up? Is this Sam Winchester not-so-subtly flirting back? The hand is still moving slowly higher and Sam has tipped his chair onto the back legs to get better reach. Gabriel forces himself to stop watching it and look up at Sam’s face, turned over his shoulder towards Gabriel and when their eyes meet, he smirks.

He then reaches for the back of Gabriel’s knee, and tickles it mercilessly.

It happens in rapid succession: Sam’s tickling Gabriel, and Gabriel instinctively flailing to get away from it. He pulls his legs in and away, but his feet are still hooked onto Sam’s tipped back chair – which consequently overbalances, sending Sam crashing to the floor.

Everybody looks round.

For a moment, everything is frozen in place: Sam on his back, chair on its back, Gabriel looking down at him shocked, one foot under Sam’s shoulder where he didn’t quite pull it free in time. Sam’s looking up at him from between his knees. No, don’t think about _that_ Gabriel now is not the time.

There’s a soft ‘ow’ from Sam.

“All right folks, nothing to see here,” Gabriel announces, trying to ignore how Balthazar is shaking his head or how Dean is glaring at him from the Timpani. Instead he gets up and attempts damage control. His music stand, which had been knocked sideways, was thankfully caught by his (slightly annoyed-looking) partner Inias. Sam’s had been caught by the shoulders of the players in front of him, and Hester was now carefully pulling it out of the way. Sam is still lying on the floor.

“Come on Samsquatch, get up.”

“My back hurts,” grumbles Sam.

“Yeah, well lying on a chair isn’t going to help. Up.”

Sam twists, turns over and ungracefully clambers over the chair. He mostly manages not to kick Hester. Gabriel does not think about how close Sam’s head now is to his crotch. No, he offers him a hand standing up. He then tries not to focus on how manoeuvring has pulled Sam’s jeans low on his hips and his plaid shirt high, exposing two inches of muted gold skin and a dark trail of hair. And he definitely does not use stupid poetic colours like “muted gold”. Of course not.

“I should apologise, but then you did tickle me,” he says when Sam’s standing and picking his chair up.

“Bite me, Gabriel.” Sam retorts, but it isn’t malicious.

“Maybe later, big boy.”

Sam huffs a short laugh through his nose, and smiles at Gabriel. He knows he’s forgiven. But he now doesn’t know any more about whether he has a shot with Sam because the signals got all mixed.

God damn it.

 

 

_Illustration for this chapter:_

__

_[Also on livejournal](http://strikertrick.livejournal.com/4112.html)._


	6. WEEK SIX - Allegro ma non troppo

_Mozart's Horn Concert No.4 can be heard[here](http://youtu.be/L_TrR2uH3T4)_

Dean’s somewhat surprised this week when not two seconds after they enter the orchestra room they – or more accurately Sam – are jumped on by Gabriel. Not literally, of course, though Dean wouldn’t put it past him.

“Sam! Give me your phone!”

“Hello to you too.” Sam replies bemusedly as he pulls out his phone and hands it over. Gabriel takes it and immediately starts tapping at the keys. He presses a final button, waits, then pulls his own phone out and taps the touchscreen with a satisfied nod before handing it back.

“Uh, what did you just do?”

“Exchanged phone numbers. That’s okay right?”

Dean sees Balthazar face-palm behind Gabriel. Apparently Gabriel has a few screws loose upstairs, or possibly is just completely clueless with normal social conduct. But Sammy seems to be just fine with this. (Dean suspects Sam is somewhat clueless himself.)

He has other things to worry about, though, so he puts Gabriel’s over-friendliness to the back of his mind. Things like Castiel. Castiel, who now he’s actually talked to the guy he’s realised just how much time he has spent staring at him during rehearsal. He’s noticed mostly because Cas keeps looking and catching him. And Cas doesn’t do the decent thing and let them both look away awkwardly, oh no, Cas holds eye contact until they’re both practically having a staring contest.

This time, Dean is watching Castiel rosin his bow. And yeah, that may sound like a euphemism, but that’s nothing to how much it looks like one. He’s tracking the movement of Cas’ hand as it cups rosin block and bow hair, sliding up and down and up and down, alternating long sweeping strokes with short swift ones working the length of the bow.

It’s possibly one of the most awkward points Cas could choose to look over at Dean, so of course he does and Dean is stuck in this long stare between them but in his peripheral vision he can see Cas working rosin into the tip of the bow, rubbing over and over the end and crap, he is really grateful he is standing behind the timpani right now because his dick has decided to say hello to the orchestra. Or to Cas at least. Blushing, he breaks the eye contact and refuses to look over again for the rest of rehearsal.

~

Gabriel had gotten Sam’s number on Balthazar’s orders. Well okay, Balthazar had said to ask for it, not just take it, but he has it and that’s what counts, right? He kinda hates that he’s having to rely on Balthazar for advice (especially since it often comes with “honestly, Gabe, how did you ever manage to snag Kali when you’re this helpless?” the answer to which was that Kali was a bit of a man-eater and had for some reason found his awkwardness endearing enough to go and snag him, not the other way round) but if it means he gets Sam, it’ll be worth it.

Balthazar’s next instruction was to try and talk-slash-flirt with Sam when there weren’t other people around, in the hope that he’d be more responsive if there were fewer eyes on them. This was accompanied by a snarky comment on last week’s catastrophe not being the kind of ‘smash hit’ he’d been intending. Fortunately, this week he was on room-clearing duty after orchestra. Sure, Michael was meant to be too, but him doing such low work was never going to happen anyhow. So instead Gabriel asks Sam to help him, and Sam agrees. Perfect. He’s asked Cas to keep Dean company while he waits to give Sam a ride home in the hopes that it’ll give them more time, so now all that’s left is to wait until after rehearsal.

~

Sam’s starting to worry again that Gabriel has ulterior motives.

He couldn’t say what they are or why, but he’s starting to worry that the over-friendliness is some way of lowering his guard so that Gabriel can pull an uber-prank on him. Part of his brain tells him that he’s stupid to be so paranoid, that Dean’s attitude towards the students at St Albans must be rubbing off on him. The other part argues that the looks he saw Gabriel and Balthazar exchanging when Gabriel was talking to Sam meant there’s something they aren’t telling him, and that Gabe had done something to his phone, but a quick check had found no ‘Gabriel’ in the contacts list. When Gabriel had asked him to help clear up after rehearsal he agreed, but a part of him worried that it would be some kind of trick.

 Still, Gabriel’s being nice in his over-friendly way and Sam decides that until he can figure out what’s going on he’ll play along, matching Gabriel. It seems to be the best way to keep up, and although that tactic last week ended up with him falling flat on his back, he has to admit he rather enjoyed this odd kind of goofing around with Gabriel. It reminded him of the way he used to goof around with his old girlfriend, Jess, before she’d moved away and they’d broken up last year.

For the first 20 minutes or so after break everyone practices together. Then Chuck announces they’re going to do Mozart’s 4th horn concerto in F, which requires only the strings and the horn soloist.

“Outta the way, this is ma jam!”

Sam turns around.

“Gabe, you’re the soloist?”

“Hells yeah!”

As Gabriel picks his way through the seats to the front most of the other wind musicians take their leave, unneeded. Sam decides to stay, though. He said he’d help clear up after and anyway he wants to hear Gabriel play.

He isn’t disappointed. He knew Gabriel was good, possibly the best brass player in the school, but now he’s being given a chance to shine. It’s a fun piece that really suits Gabriel, and he throws himself into playing it. Sam watches him, how his right arm holds the horn’s weight with ease while the left plays the keys, tiny shifts of muscle and tendon just visible at this distance where he’s rolled up his shirt sleeves. He has music in front of him, but more often he seems to focus on nothing tangible and instead on the melody memorised in his head and muscles, the state Sam recognises when he’s played a piece over and over until it’s second nature because he loves it that much.

It's a beautiful sight to see, really.

He doesn't have to play the entire time, and in one of the lulls in the horn part Gabriel looks up, looks at Sam, eyes shining, and it's a little bit breathtaking. Then he's back to playing, and Sam is left staring.

Gabriel is playing the music, his body swaying with it, brows drawing in when the note progression turns minor and standing up tall when the riff starts again. Sam's left hypnotised.

 

When rehearsal is announced as finished the string players quickly make their way out, while Gabriel stands and talks to chuck for a minute. When he comes back down, Sam is waiting at the side for him.

"That was amazing, Gabriel."

"Well, naturally."

"No, really. I've never got to see you properly play before. It was..." Sam's suddenly not sure what word to put, the ones in his head seeming too gushy and fangirly. He leaves it unsaid instead. Gabriel seems to understand.

He carefully lays his horn on its case and turn back to Sam.

"Thank you," he says, and smiles, and rests his right hand on Sam’s left arm. He's in short sleeves today so it rests on bare skin, and Sam is very aware of its touch. He can feel it, warm and slightly damp against his skin. A little too warm and damp, actually. Then it clicks.

"Gabriel. Is this the hand that goes inside the horn?"

"Yeah?"

"The one that has all your breath and spit blowing onto it?"

"Yeah" Gabe says, looking a mixture of guilty and mischievous.

"Eww!" Sam says, swatting the hand away. "Gross."

And when he thinks about it, Gabriel is right handed, always uses that hand to grab and touch and even when they shook hands that first time...

"Have you just been wiping your spit on me every time?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. Natural habit of a trickster I guess, always subliminally pranking. It's not just you, if that's any consolation. You're just the first that's realised."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sorry, I didn't realised you'd be grossed out so easily."

"I'm not that bad, but I mean that has, what, half an hour of spit and clammy warmth accumulated on it? Kinda gross."

Gabriel considers his hand for a moment, then wipes it off onto his pants.

"So would you be okay with me touching you now? Or do I need to disinfect it for you first?"

"Nah, that's fine. I have a pretty good immune system." Sam teases.

Gabriel chuckles, pokes Sam for good measure, and then gestures at the chairs.

"We should probably get cracking."

The repetitive lift and carry of putting away stands and chairs is easy, and leaves room for conversation. Sam teases Gabriel about how the chair stacks are soon the same height as him. Gabriel tells him to watch out for the lights in case he hits his head on them. The conversation winds its way back to Gabriel’s concerto performance, because Sam’s curious and impressed.

“Do you get nervous, up there, with everyone watching you?”

“Nah, I’m not much of one for stage fright. I’m always keen to perform for others.” He winks.

“Show off, more like.”

“And why shouldn’t I? If you’ve got talent, you shouldn’t let it go to waste. And I’ve got talent. Some may even call it a gift.”

Sam has to laugh at that. “A gift.” He repeats dubiously.

“Of course,” Gabriel insists. “It’s like I have magic fingers. The things I can do with them, the way they move, always know how to push the right buttons…” he leaves the sentence hanging, waggling his eyebrows at Sam as if the double entendres weren’t clear enough. Sam wonders again what Gabriel’s goal is in all this. He decides the best idea though is to go with it, retaliate. And okay, that’s less of a logical decision and more because he just wants to.

“Talented though they may be, I refuse to believe you have been gifted with magic fingers.”

Gabriel leans back against a table melodramatically, a hand over his heart as if Sam’s wounded his pride.

“Tut, tut, have faith, young Winchester! I am named after the Archangel Gabriel, and maybe I am channelling that divine power through my fingers.”

“Divine? You seemed to be implying some pretty unholy things about your talents.”

“Well, maybe I misuse them a little.” Gabriel winks again.

Short of a response, Sam rolls his eyes and goes to stack up the next few chairs. There’s not many left now and Gabriel’s clearly decided he’s done enough, jumping up to sit on the table he was leaning on instead of helping.

“Hey, isn’t this your chair-stacking duty?”

“Well, I can’t do too many. Can’t risk hurting my gifted hands,” he says, waving them for extra effect. Sam turns to stack together the last couple of chairs.

“I’m surprised your huge ego fits in such a little body.” Sam picks up the stack he’s made and carries it to the side of the room.

“My ego isn’t the only thing that’s huge, kiddo.”

Sam sets the stack down before making the 90-degree turn to face Gabriel.

“Oh really?” he says, challenging. “What else?”

“You could come find out for yourself…” Gabriel adds a wicked smirk to the end of his response.

Gabriel probably doesn’t realise that Winchesters are practically bread to try and win dares and challenges. So even if he’d never fully follow it through, Sam calls the bluff on instinct. He strides over to Gabriel, whose eyes widen in surprise. When he reaches him he turns to face Gabriel and rests his hands on Gabe’s legs where they hang off the edge of the table. They’d been swinging slightly but now they go completely still.

Gabriel must be really surprised, because Sam manages to pull the same trick twice: he hooks his round to the vulnerable undersides of Gabriel’s knees, and tickles.

The reaction is the same as last time – Gabriel flails to get his legs away. But this time Sam has a grip on them and he isn’t letting go easily.

“No – stop it – haha – you bitch - let go!” Gabriel manages to get out between laughs. Sam keeps tickling him. Gabriel had tried pulling his legs outwards but it hadn’t shaken Sam off, and now he steps in between Gabe’s knees, fingers still moving mercilessly.

When Gabriel grabs his wrists, Sam expects his hands to be pulled away.

What he doesn’t expect is to be pulled forward.

What he really doesn’t expect is Gabriel’s mouth on his.

Oh.

Well, that would explain Gabriel’s behaviour. If his hands weren’t still caught in Gabriel’s grip he might smack himself in the head for his obliviousness.

His mouth is still on Gabriel’s.

~

Gabriel really isn’t sure what he’d been thinking when he kisses Sam. The problem is actually probably that he hadn’t been thinking; the tip of his mouth to meet Sam’s as he pulled those hands out of harm’s way had been completely on impulse.

Sam is frozen still, and Gabriel guesses it’s from shock. But he also hasn’t pulled away yet, or slapped him, which is good.

So yeah, it may not be how Gabriel had planned on first kissing Sam Winchester, but he isn’t going waste it now he is.

He drinks it all in. The feel of Sam’s lips, dry and part-soft-part-chapped, against his own. The warmth where both their mouths are slightly open – Gabriel’s from residual laughter, Sam’s perhaps in surprise. The heat of Sam’s skin under his hands and the cautious weight of Sam’s hands on his shoulders where he’d pulled them forward. Sam’s hips between his knees.

Sam still hasn’t moved, and Gabriel decides to take a chance and move things a step forward. Tentatively, he slides his tongue out to touch Sam’s lower lip.

The contact must snap Sam out of his daze, because the kid starts and jerks backwards, pulling his arms free and stepping away from Gabriel.

“Sorry – I – uh – I mean, I didn’t know – um I’mgonnagofindDeansorrybye.” And with that Sam rushes out of the room, blushing furiously, grabbing his flute case on the way out. The door swings shut with a bang.

Fuck.


	7. WEEK SIX-POINT-FIVE - Coda

That night Sam’s in his room trying to focus on homework when his phone vibrates on the desk next to him. He picks it up, half expecting it to be Jo seeing if he wants to hang out on the weekend, or Andy asking for help with the math homework. But it’s neither of them. The screen instead informs him he’s received a text from, apparently, “The most awesome guy in the orchestra”. No prize for guessing who that is, and it also explains why he hadn’t been able to find a ‘Gabriel’ in his contacts. He can’t help but smile a little as he opens the message.

_Sorry about earlier. – Gabriel_

And yeah, ‘earlier’ has been playing on Sam’s mind all evening. When he’d got out to the school’s parking lot he’d found Cas and Dean talking, at least until he reached them and Dean told him he looked shell-shocked. He’d forcibly relaxed and brushed it off with some throwaway comment, but Dean had looked unconvinced and Cas had looked worried, taking his leave quickly. Sam guessed that he would go and find Gabriel. Dean tried once or twice on the journey back home to ask if Sam was okay. Sam snapped back that he was fine each time until Dean shrugged it off with a “Fine, Samantha. Must just be your time of the month.”

Dinner had been in front of the TV so talking hadn’t been a requirement, and now Sam’s in his room with the pretence of studying. Really he was just sitting at his desk playing the afternoon over and over in his head. Each time he cringes at the memory of his less-than-smooth exit. He’d just panicked, hadn’t known what to say, but now he feels bad for just running out on Gabriel like that. The guy probably thinks he assaulted Sam or something now. Which he didn’t. Okay, Sam hadn’t really had a say in the kiss, but then he didn’t exactly pull away as soon as it happened. And he knows he can’t pin that all on surprise. He still hasn’t finished working out how he feels about all this, but he does know that he should be the one apologising. So he does.

_No, I’m sorry. For running out like that._

It’s a few minutes before a reply comes through, a few minutes which Sam spends staring at his phone, waiting for it to buzz.

_I shouldn’t have done it, though._

Part of Sam’s mind speaks up and says that it was a good thing he did do it or Sam would have remained clueless for god knows how long. Sam doesn’t put that in the text though, instead simply reassuring Gabriel.

_No, it’s fine, really._

The reply comes quicker that time.

_You don’t mind?_

Sam thinks he better make sure they’re talking about the same thing, just in case.

_That you kissed me?_

It feels weird having it out in the open like that, properly acknowledged.

_Yeah._

Sam starts to type out his response, and he’s surprised at how easily it comes, that he doesn’t have to think about it.

_No. I don’t mind. At all._

Gabriel’s reply is almost immediate.

_Oh. Okay._

_:)_

He isn’t really sure what to say next. A minute later his phone goes off anyway.

_Would you mind if I did it again?_

Sam very quickly decides that no, he wouldn’t.

_No._

The last two texts from Gabriel come in quick succession.

_Okay._

_Awesome._

~

During Friday morning English class it occurs to Gabriel that, while things were thankfully okay between him and Sam, he’d made an oversight in asking if Sam would mind another kiss happening. Because he’d only said he wouldn’t mind, nothing more.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and under the cover of his desk sends a quick, paranoid text.

_Would you want me to do it again?_

It takes Sam one hour and seventeen minutes to reply (not that Gabriel was counting). Logically he knows Sam is probably in class, probably has his phone off or on silent like a good student. But the wait makes him nervous about what Sam’s response is going to be. Cas gives him a look when he checks his phone for what is probably the fifteenth time, but doesn’t say anything. Balthazar tells him it’s unbecoming to be so desperate. Gabriel ignores him.

When Sam finally replies Gabriel reads the first line and grins.

_I think so, yeah. :)_

Then he reads the caveat

_Not in the school though!_

Which is a bit of a problem, because they only see each other when Sam comes to the school for rehearsals.

_If not in school, then where?_

By the time Sam replies next Gabriel is sitting next to Balthazar in their usual seats at the back of the chemistry lab. Balthazar, being the nosy bastard that he is, leans over Gabriel’s shoulder when he opens the message and reads the conversation.

_I don’t know. I just don’t really fancy being walked in on by Zachariah or my brother or anything._

“Sounds like he wants there to really be something to walk in on, eh?” says Balthazar with a nudge.

“Talk louder why don’t you? I don’t think they heard you next door.” mutters Gabriel. Balthazar hadn’t said it that loudly, but Gabriel really didn’t want them overheard. And he was trying not to get his hopes up about what Balthazar had said, didn’t want to read too much into Sam’s texts.

“Well, are you going to reply to him or not?” Balthazar stage-whispers

“Saying what?”

“Well, let’s see...” Balthazar cups his hand to his chin in mock deep thought. “He would like you to kiss him, but not in the school. Now, where is an appropriate place to take someone you are going to kiss? Oh I don’t know, maybe on a date?”

“No, no I can’t ask him on a date!”

“Why not?”

“He might say no!”

“Not likely, Gabe.”

“But still…okay, I’ll ask him to hang out, but I won’t specifically say it’s a date. Then he’s more likely to say yes!”

Balthazar looks at him despairingly.

“Have I taught you nothing?”

Gabriel ignores Balthazar’s remark and starts to type out his reply.

_Okay, so how about next week after rehearsal we go somewhere else and hang out. Maybe see a movie or something?_

Thankfully Sam’s response is prompt this time.

_Sounds good to me :)_

“Ooh, a movie? Are you sure?” Balthazar asks dubiously.

“What’s wrong with a movie?”

“Not exactly classy to take him somewhere where you can’t even talk if you’re gonna try and get it on with him. I don’t think the skittish moose would respond well to you slobbering on him in the dark.”

“Gross, Balthazar, and I’m glad to see you have such faith in me.”

“Look, at least do something else as well. So you have a chance to win him over with your charms, few though they may be.”

There’s a pointed cough from the teacher which shuts them both up. Begrudgingly, Gabriel follows Balthazar’s advice.

_I know a place that does great ice cream, too._

The teacher’s eyeing him suspiciously now, so he puts his phone away and doesn’t check it until he’s walking out of the classroom. There’s a text waiting for him.

_Well then, it’s a date._

_It is?_ Gabriel replies, surprised that Sam was willing to call it one so easily.

_Yes, Gabriel._

“Told you sooo.” sings Balthazar smugly.

~

On Monday night, Sam texts Gabriel.

_So what film are we seeing on Thursday?_

Sam wouldn’t mind mind what they saw, really. But he wants an excuse to talk to Gabriel. He doesn’t have to wait long for the reply.

_I haven’t seen The Avengers yet, if you’d be interested in that?_

Sam doesn’t actually manage to answer Gabriel’s question, because he’s too caught up in asking

_HOW HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE AVENGERS YET?! IT. IS. SO.  AMAZING._

It’s only after the text has gone that Sam realises he probably shouldn’t have unleashed his avengers-fanboy over text. Or possibly at all, ever. Fortunately Gabriel takes it in his stride.

_I take that to mean you won’t mind seeing it again?_

Definitely not.

Avengers it is then! But if you’re one of those people who sits there quoting the film I will be forced to shut you up.

_And how would you manage that?_

The thought amuses Sam, because he pretty much towers over Gabriel and he’s pretty sure the guy couldn’t make him do anything.

_By any means necessary ;)_

The wink leaves Sam in no doubt about the kind of methods Gabriel is thinking of. It leads his mind down a train of thought that distracts him, makes his pulse quicken.

When he brings himself back from thoughts of hot mouths and gripping hands he taps out a response. He writes the message honestly, then thinks “eh, what the hell” and adds a wink to the end of it to make his own intentions clear, too.

_I’d like to see you try. ;)_


	8. WEEK SEVEN - Dolce

On their way to St. Alban’s Sam tells Dean he’s hanging out with Gabriel after rehearsal. Which is fine, great even; great that Sam’s made some new friends. But then Dean’s curious as to why it’s just Gabriel and not the Gabriel-Cas-Balthazar trio and he asks Sam as much.

“…Well Gabriel wants to see The Avengers but the other two weren’t interested in going.”

That is a reasonable explanation. But Dean knows his little brother, knows his tells and even if the answer came out smoothly there’d been a hesitation before it and that’s enough to make Dean look over. Sam’s staring straight ahead out the window and there’s a faint flush of pink in his cheeks.

Dean, quite tactfully he thinks, doesn’t mention it.

“Dad know you’re staying out?” he asks instead.

“I told him. Doesn’t mean he was listening, but I did tell him.”

“Okay. Gimme a ring and I’ll come pick you up back at St. Alban’s when you’re done. Though I’ll drive out anyway if it’s approaching curfew – much as I think you need a little more rebellion in your life, if you break that it’ll be on my ass.”

“Okay, Dean. Thanks.” Dean glances over at Sam once more and he’s smiling now. He decides to end the conversation there instead of pressing his suspicions, mostly because his Led Zepplin tape has just rolled onto Kashmir which is his cue to turn up the volume. He makes a mental note to get Cas to learn the cello part.

~

There’s no new material this rehearsal; instead they go back to pieces which they’ll perform at the fast approaching concert. This is good, because working on something familiar means Sam can afford to be a little distracted. He can’t help it, but he’s nervous about the date, about not being entirely truthful with Dean – excited too though. And Gabriel isn’t helping, somehow managing to be a distraction even though Sam can’t see him, just knows he’s there behind him, is hyper-aware of his presence.

Sam’s got assigned clear-up duty this week with Balthazar and Gabriel hangs around while they get to work, fashioning spare sheet music into paper planes and flicking them towards the pair until Balthazar irritably snaps, “You know, if you put the music away instead of making more mess with it then we’d be done sooner and you two could leave.”

“But where’s the fun in tidying?” Gabriel protests. In response a paper plane is thrown back at him by Sam. It almost misses him, but manages to instead lodge the nose into Gabriel’s hair before gravity takes over and it slides to the floor.

“Come on, Gabriel, I helped you last week.” Sam points out.

“Fine, okay, I’ll put the music away for you.”

“Oh that’s right, agree when he asks.” Balthazar complains, but there’s a smile to it.

They continue clearing away chairs and music stands while Gabriel gathers the sheet music folders into their boxes and takes them into the cupboard. Not long after he’s taken the last one in, there’s a muffled call,

“Uh, little help in here?”

Sam’s nearest, so he goes in to see what Gabriel’s on about. As he draws level with the open cupboard door he sees Gabriel on tiptoes, box held precariously as he tries to get it onto the last space on the top shelf. It’s threatening to tip back and fall on him so Sam intervenes before that can happen. He squeezes into the space between Gabriel and the other wall of shelves, reaches up to put his fingers on the lip of the box and pushes it onto the shelf. It’s only when the task is done that he notices Gabriel has gone uncharacteristically still, and that this is possibly because Sam is stretched out and plastered to the back of him. Flustered, he drops his arms – only to have them fall across Gabriel’s shoulders because of course he is still there. He is trying to figure out how to get them back into his personal space in a closet that offers barely any room when Gabriel catches his fidgeting arms and holds them in place, half draped across his chest and shoulders.

“No need to be such a skittish moose, you know.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, and he still isn’t really sure what he’s doing here, but he lets go of the tension in his arms and relaxes against Gabriel. In return he faintly feels Gabriel leaning back against him.

The urge to kiss Gabriel is strong, but their position doesn’t allow for it at all. However, from here Sam can tip his chin up a little and rest it on Gabriel’s head.

“You’re so short,” he teases.

“Hey, screw you!”

“I wouldn’t advise doing so in there.” Interjects Balthazar, poking his head round the doorway, “It’s probably incredibly unhygienic. For whoever has to touch the sheet music next, that is.”

Sam blushes but Gabriel just laughs and extricates himself from Sam’s arms and the cupboard.

“Come on Sam, it’s about time we came out the closet.”

Sam rolls his eyes as he steps back into the classroom.

“Don’t you two have a date you should be on right now?” Balthazar asks.

~

Balthazar’s concerns that Gabriel would make some sort of flirting faux-pas during the film turned out to be completely unfounded. For the first half an hour, Sam was giving him whispered explanations of who everyone was and their backstories. Then after that Gabriel became so engrossed in the film he half forgot Sam was even there. The sugar from his popcorn kicked in, and he bounced and shifted in his seat with the action, gesturing at the screen. Twice Sam caught the bucket just in time to stop it flying over the crowd.

The final straw apparently comes when Gabriel excitedly flings his arm out to point at some action in the corner of the screen and very nearly takes out Sam’s eye.  Sam pushes the offending hand down, pressing it to the arm rest with one of his own.

“Gabriel, calm down.” He hisses, though he sounds more amused than irritated.

“Sorry,” he mutters, flashing Sam a smile before they turn back to the movie.

Sam’s hand is still on his. Not holding, just resting its weight on Gabriel’s as if to stop it flailing again. Slowly Gabriel spreads his fingers and pushes them up to thread between Sam’s. Sam doesn’t respond for a moment, then ever-so-slightly curls his fingers and squeezes. They stay there for the rest of the movie.

The ice cream place is a short walk away, tucked off the main drag of the town centre in what looks like an ominous crack alley but apparently only caters to sugar addicts like Gabriel. The counter is the length of the back wall and hosts about 50 different flavours and toppings to choose from. Gabriel greets the server, ‘Angelo’, and motions for Sam to choose his ice cream.

Sam just gets a single scoop of strawberry in a cone, sprinkled with dessicated coconut, and Gabriel looks at him almost in despair.

“That’s it, Sam? Seriously?” Sam shrugs.

“We already had popcorn in the cinema.”

Gabriel shakes his head.

“Let me show you how it’s done.” He announces, and proceeds to stack his order high with four types of ice cream (three of those chocolate), sauce, cream and sprinkles. It looks like a hyperglycaemic shock in a cone. Sam’s looking at it slack-jawed.

“Beauty, isn’t she?” asks Gabriel with a grin.

“How are you not a three hundred pound diabetic?” Sam asks in return.

“I’m just that awesome.”

They sit down at a table in the corner of the store to eat, a slow trickle of customers proving that the ice-cream parlour is not, in fact, kept running solely on Gabriel’s sweet tooth. To their credit, the ice cream is really good. Gabriel offers Sam a taste of his and Sam takes a small sample of each flavour with a little plastic spoon. When he returns the offer Gabriel tastes with an exaggerated lick, watching the Sam the whole time and waggling his eyebrows seductively. It looks more ridiculous than sexy but Gabriel seems satisfied with Sam’s laughter.

When Sam’s finished his ice cream and Gabriel’s is at least reduced to a manageable size, they leave the store and walk back towards the school, where Dean is picking Sam up. They talk, or mostly Sam talks while Gabriel eats and occasionally asks questions. He finds himself talking about his life story: marine dad and how his mother died in a house fire when he was young; how Dean was the one raising him half the time. How one of his few memories of his mother is of her playing the flute – she was an accomplished classical player but her favourite thing to play was ‘Hey Jude’ by the Beatles. How he wanted to learn in her honour and how happy he was the day he was old enough to play her flute (it had suffered a little smoke damage in that fire but Dean had it restored for Sam’s 14th birthday). Then he realises Gabriel hasn’t spoken in a while and that he’s been talking all about himself. He blushes.

“Crap – sorry – I must really be boring you – “

Gabriel wraps his (now empty) hand around Sam’s and squeezes it.

“Of course not. I’m – I’m sorry about your mom though. You didn’t have to tell me about all that.”

“No, it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Not as much, anyway.

“That’s a really lovely reason to start playing though,” says Gabriel. There’s a pause, then, “better than mine. My parents decided it would be cute to have a kid named Gabriel who played horn, so it was like in the Bible. I like it now, but I didn’t exactly get a say in starting it.”

“Wait, doesn’t the horn of Gabriel playing signal the start of the apocalypse?” asks Sam, grateful for the shift in subject.

“Well, I didn’t think my playing was _that_ bad.” replies Gabriel, and Sam laughs. “I’m also pretty sure Gabriel’s horn isn’t of the French variety.” He adds.

“And I’m pretty sure the Archangel Gabriel wouldn’t be walking around on Earth as a short guy with ice cream all round his mouth.” Points out Sam.

“Hey I’m not – wait, crap, I have ice cream round my mouth? Damn it, I’m meant to be looking alluring!” He tries to lick it off but can’t catch it all.

“You missed a spot.” Sam informs him, pointing to a smear of chocolate and inch from the corner of his mouth. Gabriel’s tongue struggles in vain.

“I can’t get it. I think you’re gonna have to help me, Sam.” Sam catches the tone in his voice, the intent.

“Bit early for playing to your food kinks, isn’t it?” he half-teases.

“I like to live vicariously. But if you’re too vanilla… ”

“Oh you did _not_ just make a terrible ice cream pun!” Sam cries, but he’s laughing, and then he’s thinking ‘to hell with it.’ “Come here, then.”

They stop where they are, in the shadow of a tree at the side of St Alban’s in a deserted residential street, and Sam ducks down to press his mouth to the ice cream on Gabriel’s cheek. He slides his tongue over the spot, chocolate taste on skin and he’s probably being sloppy and it’s probably gross from an outside perspective but the noise he hears half-catch in Gabriel’s throat suggests there’s no objection there. The noise makes him stop cleaning off the ice cream and press a kiss to Gabriel’s cheek, to the corner of his mouth. Then Gabriel catches on and turns to press their lips together.

They hold the kiss for a few moments and then Gabriel pulls away to ask: “Not gonna run away this time kiddo?” Sam glances up and down the street to check it’s still empty (and yes he’s aware that it’s not the classiest place to kiss someone but that isn’t high on his list of concerns just now) before answering “no” and leaning back in.

~

Gabriel would like to let it be known that Sam Winchester, at least when not surprised, is a pretty damn good kisser. After he had bolted the first time Gabriel had been expecting shy and tentative, but Sam’s leading this with easy confidence: one hand cupping Gabriel’s head through his hair, the other at his waist, tongue slipping into Gabriel’s mouth like it belongs there. It’d be kind of emasculating if Gabriel gave a damn about that sort of thing instead of letting his eyes slide shut and his hands find Sam’s hips and savouring the moment.

His mind idly wonders where Sam learned to kiss, thinking that if he somehow hadn’t had a girlfriend to practice with then at the least any girl with eyes would have wanted to land him for seven-minutes-in-heaven  back in 8th grade.

Sam snags his drifting attention back with a flash of teeth on his lower lip and that is definitely something Gabriel can get on board with. He returns the bite with a bit more force; Sam’s breath stutters as he steps forward, all but backing Gabriel into the trunk of the tree and closing the bare inches of space between them so their chests are brushing. Gabriel uses the support of the tree to go right up on tip toes and make the height difference easier. Sam seems approving, so he tests his luck and slides a hand down to grab his ass. He feels Sam jump in surprise, followed by a huff of laughter and a hand moving his own back up again. So okay, apparently Sam does have some PDA boundaries – but considering they’re still making out he isn’t going to complain.

Just as he begins to lose himself again in the press of lips and teeth and tongue there’s a muffled but insistent buzz against his hip. Sam pulls away with a noise of frustration.

“Was that your phone or are you just pleased to see me?” Gabriel quips but Sam’s busy answering the call. He can’t hear the other person but Sam’s saying, “yes Dean…okay – I’m just round the corner anyway, I’m almost there…no I’ll come to you…see you in a minute,” before hanging up.

“Dean’s waiting. If I’m any later my Dad’ll get pissed.” He explains. Gabriel nods.

“You sure you don’t want a ride or anything?”

“It’s cool, I’ll be fine…you better get back to Dean. Although not looking like that.” Gabriel reaches up and smoothes Sam’s hair back down. “There. Better.”

“Yours is pretty messed up too.” Sam says sheepishly, brushing a few strands back into place.

“It’s fine, I look like I’ve gone through a bush backwards half the time anyway. Now give me a kiss and bid me goodnight, fair maiden, before thine brother cometh to find thee.” Sam laughs at the mock-Shakespearean voice.

“Stop trying to be Romeo, you’re more like Puck than anything.”

He presses their lips together once more before turning to go.

“Goodnight, Gabriel. I had a great time.”

Gabriel at least has the dignity to wait until Sam’s out of sight before punching the air.


	9. WEEK EIGHT - Lusingando

This is the final rehearsal that can really be called a rehearsal. Next week is the concert and sure, there’ll be rehearsals during the day leading up to it but you aren’t allowed to make mistakes that late in the game – it has to be flawless. Chuck has suddenly become extra picky, ‘okay’ bits he previously accepted now being called up and perfected. He wants it executed perfectly. He’s still meek about it – “would you mind repeating bars 43-50, cellos, and bring out the syncopation please” – but to the right of him Michael glowers threateningly at the musicians who dare play poorly during his solo. The flutes only get corrected three times which Sam counts as an achievement – Gabriel alone gets called up seven times (though it’s never about his playing, but rather  about turning sheet music into paper planes to throw at Zachariah. One even lands perfectly in the bell of his trombone).

At break Sam asks Gabriel if he’d like to come over after practice and play video games. Gabriel happily agrees because they haven’t had another chance to see each other since last week and texting can only suffice for so long. He also points out that if Gabriel keeps messing about rehearsal will probably run late.

Gabriel is surprisingly (though not completely) well behaved for the next hour. The flutes get called on once more, with Chuck instructing them to be more precise with their tonguing so that the articulation is clearer. Sam nods in agreement, but as soon as Chuck turns to give pointers to the double bassists Gabriel leans forward to contradict.

“You don’t need to worry, Sam. I’m _very_ sure your tonguing is more than adequate.” He mutters.

Hester twists her head to give Gabriel an offended look, the innuendo completely lost on her. Sam doesn’t turn round but his ears blush red. Gabriel sits back with a smirk.

After rehearsal they head out with Dean to the Impala. When he asks Sam why only Gabriel is coming over Sam hesitates but Gabriel replies perfectly smoothly.

“Cas and Balthazar have other stuff they do after Orchestra on Thursday nights”

(This is true, though not technically the reason they weren’t invited.)

 Sam slides into the passenger seat out of habit, leaving Gabriel alone on the backseat. As he drives Dean tells Sam about the different road signs and when he’s changing gears and stuff and Gabriel gathers that Dean’s just starting to teach Sam how to drive. He wonders how many people the brothers have screwed on this back seat. He wonders if he’ll ever be added to that number. To be fair Sam’s probably quite a way from being able to drive without his brother in the car watching so maybe he shouldn’t be considering backseat shenanigans just yet.

Dean drops them off outside their house but doesn’t get out of the car.

“I’m going to Victor’s to hang out, but he’s boring and will want to do homework eventually so I’ll be back around half 8 and can take Gabriel home if he needs a ride.”

Sam says bye and Gabriel nods mutely. As soon as Dean’s driving away he turns to Sam and says, “Well if there’s riding involved I’d rather it was you…” Sam hits him on the arm, but only lightly.

They go inside, kick their shoes off and Sam gets them both a drink from the kitchen. Gabriel’s still in his St Alban’s uniform but he takes off the blazer and tie and loosens another button on his shirt, dumping the clothes and his bag by the door with the shoes. Sam comes out bearing two glasses of cola.

“Please tell me that’s Pepsi, not Coke.”  Says Gabriel, who’s a connoisseur in sugar and fizzy drinks. 

“Pepsi Max,” confirms Sam.

“Perfect! My favourite.”

“I, uh, noticed you drink it a lot at Orchestra.” Sam admits, blushing a little.

“So kind of you to take note,” says Gabriel teasingly as he takes one of the glasses.

They take the drinks into the living room and Gabriel sinks (almost literally) into the old couch while Sam starts up the Xbox.

“And here was me hoping ‘video games’ was a euphemism.”

“Gabriel, everything is a euphemism to you. Anyway, I got the Avengers game last week; I thought you’d enjoy it.”

It _does_ sound pretty cool so Gabriel accepts the controller. They get as far as character selection when Gabriel objects again.

“But why can’t I be Loki?”

“Because he isn’t an Avenger, he’s the bad guy.”

“So? I should still be able to play as him. I’ll join the dark side if I have to. I mean, he’s the trickster, I was practically born to be him!”

“Does that mean you also intend to father an eight-legged horse?”

“Hey, don’t hate on Sleipnir! And maybe not intend, but I can’t be held accountable for what I do when I’m drunk.”

Sam laughs.

“I will most definitely hold you accountable if you molest some poor horse. I may also have you sectioned. Now just pick one of the Avengers.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be Thor then.”

“Is that so you can make jokes about your ‘hammer’?”

“No!”

Sam looks at him, completely unconvinced.

“Well, maybe a few. But come on, the Mjolnir is clearly compensation for his dick! Not that I’d need compensation, my ‘Mjolnir’ is –“

Sam hits him on the arm.

“Hit me again and I’m filing for domestic abuse.”

Sam goes for Hulk and they settle into fighting the bad guys. Though they are on the same side, they start a Gimli-and-Legolas-esque competition of who can kill more. Gabriel throws out innuendo as and when he finds them, which is often. Sam doesn’t hit him again but instead arranges himself sideways on the sofa so that every time Gabriel euphemises he can slide a foot up Gabriel’s thigh. This is completely unfair because it is distracting and makes him miss kills – but he can’t quite bring himself to move away. He gets revenge when he discovers Sam’s feet are ticklish.

They play until their stomachs are audibly rumbling and then pause for food.

“Would it be okay if I just did microwave pizzas? It’s nothing fancy…”

“If it’s hot and bad for you then I’ll love it” Gabriel assures him, “plus it’s pizza, that’s like the best savoury food in existence.”

“Okay.”

Sam sets him up to play some single player Loki rounds before disappearing into the kitchen. When he comes back with two plates of food Gabriel has stretched himself out on the sofa, lying on his side so he can still see the TV.

“Do you want me to draw you like one of your French girls?” Sam teases. Gabriel pauses the game.

“Well I can take my clothes off for you but I don’t have a priceless necklace to wear. Maybe I could pose artfully with the Xbox controller.” He demonstrates. Sam gives an undignified snort and then, still shaking his head, puts the plates on the coffee table and pulls it close to the couch.

They turn the TV back to actual TV, finding The Big Bang Theory to play in the background while they eat and talk. It doesn’t take them long to finish the pizza so Sam digs out some mint-chip ice cream from the depths of the freezer as dessert. When they’ve finished that it’s still barely half seven, an hour before Dean’s due back. They carry the plates back to the kitchen.

“Your Dad isn’t around is he?”

“Nope, he’s away on business again.”

“So he won’t be home anytime soon?”

“He’s not due back ‘til the weekend. Why?”

“Good.”

It’s not an answer, but then the hand grabbing Sam’s shirt and pulling him down to Gabriel is probably explanation enough. Their lips meet, and tongues soon follow, impatient and eager. Gabriel’s on the balls of his feet, leaning into Sam for support, but the height difference is still a little awkward. Eventually Sam just pulls away, rolling his neck and cricking it.

“Could you uh, maybe,” he starts awkwardly; “I was thinking maybe you could sit up on the counter?”

Gabriel considers it.

“Am I not going to retain any masculinity in this relationship?”

“It’s not gonna make your dick disappear, but it will probably improve the making out.” Sam reasons.

“Well, you got me there. Okay. Counter it is.”

Gabriel steps backwards in the small kitchen until he feels the counter. He places his hands on it, braces himself, jumps up and back so he’s sitting on the side – and promptly whacks his head on the wall cupboard. 

“Ow, fuck!” he curses, leaning forwards again and clutching his head. Sam rushes forward in time to make sure he doesn’t fall off the counter, saying “Shit Gabriel sorry” and wrapping an arm around his shoulders protectively.

“Well my head is now aching like a bitch but I’ll survive.”

“I should have told you to watch out, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just – make this painful endeavour worth it, okay?”

Sam’s face softens from concern to amusement. He pulls Gabriel’s hands from where they still clutch the injury and gently cradles his head in one huge palm, fingers sliding through hair. He leans into Gabriel and the height difference is almost gone now, the kiss easy, Sam’s lips a gentle press against his own like he’s afraid he’ll hurt Gabriel further. It’s slow, it’s sweet, it’s just enough for Gabriel to ignore the throbbing under his skull – but not enough to distract him from the feeling he’s about to fall off. Even when he parts his legs so Sam can press in close, the damned cupboard still means his ass is only half on the counter. He sighs and pulls away.

“Sorry kiddo, I may be the right height here but I feel like I’m balancing on a cliff edge. The counter ain’t gonna cut it.” Sam nods.

“I guess we should just head back to the living room then.”

He steps back so Gabriel can get down and they walk to the other room. Sam sits down on the couch innocently, as if he thinks they aren’t going to continue making out, which is of course very, very wrong. To make it clear to Sam that he’s wrong, Gabriel puts a knee either side of his thighs and plants himself in Sam’s lap. Sam quickly gets with the program.

This position makes Gabriel taller than Sam, which he relishes, leaning down and claiming Sam’s mouth as his. He adds tongue, adds teeth, but Sam’s still responding with gentle caution. Gabriel tries encouraging the rougher Sam he’s sure is in there by biting down hard on his lip – but Sam winces and turns his head away. Crap.

“Sorry, didn’t mean that to hurt.”

“Yeah, not much anyway,” says Sam sarcastically, and Gabriel starts to worry he’s fucked up.

“Look, I won’t bite like that again – or at all if you don’t want – I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay. Just – not quite so hard.” Sam pauses, looks considering. “How’s your head now?”

“It’s – fine?” Gabriel responds, thrown by the question.

“Okay.” Says Sam, and slides a hand into Gabriel’s hair to pull him back into the kiss.

Gabriel’s the careful one now, decides to let Sam lead the kiss, and yeah if Sam’s asking about his head just so he can put a hand there it’s gonna be kind of tame but it’s still nice and it’s still Sam and

 Fuck.

The hand in Gabriel’s hair just closed and gripped and pulled – not gently – and it drags a gasp form Gabriel because his head may have stopped throbbing but it’s still sore. The pain is sharp but it’s also not quite pain because his brain has rerouted the feeling south and the gasp is more than half arousal.

“That’s more like it,” he growls, before kissing Sam forcefully.

~

Sam is finding that kissing Gabriel isn’t like kissing the girls he’s dated before. Now they’ve worked past the awkwardness there’s less carefulness, more force, more sharp edges of tooth and nail and Sam decides quickly that he likes it- a lot. There are some things that are still the same – like how Gabriel enjoys being pressed back into the couch and having his neck kissed. There are some things that are different – like how when Sam goes from kissing to biting and sucking at the skin of Gabriel’s throat Gabriel moans without any reserve.

Sam can feel Gabriel testing the boundaries, how far he can go. Now they’re in private he can grab Sam’s ass when he likes; when he slides his hands under Sam’s top Sam responds by unbuttoning Gabriel’s shirt; when Gabriel’s hand slides to cup Sam through his jeans it sends a bolt of sensation through him - but he moves the hands away because he thinks he’s still not quite ready for that and Gabriel nods and doesn’t try again. Still, as the haze of lust rises Sam cares less and when Gabriel does something clever with his tongue and pulls on his hair Sam grinds down on instinct and oh the friction overcomes any reservations. Gabriel hums approvingly and rolls his hips up, getting them to catch where they’re both hot and hard when Sam grinds down again and Sam can’t help but groan into the next kiss.

They break suddenly when Sam recognises the roar of the Impala approaching the drive.  In the ninety seconds before Dean opens the door they hastily  try to regain normality: smoothing hair, redoing most of the buttons on Gabriel’s shirt and at the last moment realising the TV channel has moved onto the Gilmore Girls and changing it to one playing Scrubs reruns. They both have to sit somewhat strategically and there’s nothing to hide the flush under their skin, but if Dean notices he doesn’t comment.

~

Just because Dean doesn’t comment it doesn’t mean he was born yesterday. He’d been a little suspicious of how friendly Gabriel had been getting with his younger brother, then suspicious of how Sam had been acting. He’s known Sam for 16 years; he can read him like a car manual (which for him is easy, thank you very much). He’s a little disappointed Sam didn’t tell him anything but then again that would probably require a chick flick moment and they’d have to start braiding each other’s hair  and – okay not the point. The point is something is going on between those two and Dean has a duty to fulfil as older brother.

He gives Gabriel a ride home, but tells Sam to stay behind and ‘do homework or something’. Gabriel tells him which area he lives in – one of the fancy ones – and Dean starts driving them in awkward silence. He manages to keep his mouth shut for all of three minutes, then goes

“You hurt Sammy and you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Huh?” Gabriel sounds startles but Dean keeps his eyes on the road. It makes this a little easier – his head still hasn’t quite got around him having to give this talk to a guy – especially a guy from St. Albans.

“If you two are going to be a – thing – then you need to know that if you hurt Sammy I will make you pay. You copy?”

There’s a long pause a Gabriel sits there dumbstruck. Finally he says tentatively, “I thought Sam hadn’t told you.”

Dean snorts.

“Sam doesn’t have to. The kid isn’t exactly subtle.” And yeah Dean can read Sam’s body language like sign posts, but he also can’t help but glance again at the red marks starting to blossom purple on Gabriel’s neck. At this angle they’re mostly hidden by the open shirt collar, but he’d unwittingly got a nice full view back in the hallway.

Gabriel catches the look and raises a hand self-consciously to his neck.

“Uh, okay. Message received. Ten-four.”

After that Dean switches on the stereo and turns on the volume on Led Zepplin. Gabriel nods his head appreciatively so maybe he’s not so bad. They don’t speak again apart from Gabriel directing dean to his (large) house and thanking him for the ride.

When Dean gets back Sam actually had holed himself up in his bedroom to do homework, the nerd. Dean sticks his round the door, announces “it’s okay Samantha, I gave your boyfriend the protective-older-brother talk so you’re good to go,” and then goes, leaving Sam spluttering behind him.


	10. WEEK NINE - Finale

Today is the day of the final concert; Sam and Dean get a day off school to attend rehearsals. The day is intense, doing last tweaks to the arrangement in the morning run through in the practice room, a dress rehearsal after lunch in the auditorium and then the concert that night at the local theatre.

They run through the set list, a selection of the pieces they’ve done over the last 9 weeks. Sam’s been practicing hard every evening, having to practice in the (thankfully deserted) park one night because Dad was getting irritated by the incessant noise. He’d fared better than Dean at least; whose sudden inclination to practise drumming loudly and enthusiastically had drawn complaints from the neighbours. He’d been reduced to practicing on sofa cushions set out like the timpani.

The park had actually been quite nice. It was a quiet area and the sun was slowly setting. Gabriel had snuck out and joined him, lay on the ground and turned the pages of sheet music as he played. In a sappy way it was really romantic. Gabriel was even silent for more than five minutes so he could listen.

When Sam had finished rehearsing his concert pieces (mostly dictated by the dwindling light) he’d gone to pack his flute away but Gabriel put a hand out to stop him.

“Keep playing. Please.”

So Sam had put the flute back to his lips and after a moment’s consideration started to play the opening bars of Hedwig’s theme. Gabriel chuckled when he recognised it. Then he’d played the Pirates of the Caribbean theme, Gabriel trying to mime sword fighting whilst lying down and using a stick as a cutlass. Sam thought he better play something calmer before Gabriel took someone’s eye out. Immediately, instinctively, he played the song his mother used to play on this flute to calm him and his brother down when they were babies.

He only made it through the first chorus of ‘Hey Jude’ before he had to stop, couldn’t bring himself to keep playing.

Gabriel understood. He put a hand on Sam’s knee, warm and reassuring.

“Hey. It’s okay.” He said softly. Sam nodded half-heartedly.

“Maybe play something else?” Gabriel suggested. Sam was silent, and then nodded again. He cast his mind out for something else to play before he brought his mother’s flute back to his lips.

It was near complete darkness now, and quiet, and the melody rang out pure in the night. Yes, choosing the Shire theme from Lord of the Rings was incredibly nerdy - but it was also beautiful. Gabriel was grinning up at him as he played and Sam had to fight the urge to smile back so he could keep playing.

He finished the piece, lowered the flute, and then Gabriel said “Come ‘ere, Samwise” and pulled him down into the grass. Sam forgot himself in the warmth of Gabriel’s mouth and hands and body pressed against his own.

Until the old man walking his labradoodle passed by and threatened to call the police on them for dogging.

I mean, _really_ , they hadn’t even taken their shirts off. (That his was unbuttoned and Gabriel’s was pushed half up his ribcage is irrelevant).

 

The memory of two nights ago distracts Sam now during the rehearsal. When Hester has to remind him to turn the page he hears Gabriel snicker behind him as if he knows exactly where Sam’s thoughts had drifted. Heck, he probably does know.

At lunch break Sam and Dean change into their suits for the dress rehearsal. They go into the boy’s bathroom to change along with another guy from their school. (Their school is big so neither knows him properly, but Sam thinks he’s called Adam and knows he plays violin.) Gabriel tries to join them in there but Dean glares at him until he leaves.

Sam’s more focused during the dress rehearsal, the stage lights and suit instilling a sense of professionalism in him. Gabriel’s apparently bored and takes advantage of the closer seating to poke Sam with his feet.

They have a quick break where the interval would be in the running and Sam and Dean are surprised to find themselves approached by Michael.

“The decision has been made that all performers should dress uniformly.” He announces. “We request that you each acquire a St. Alban’s tie and blazer for tonight’s performance.”

“Where the hell do we get those?” asks Dean belligerently.

“I’m sure you can find someone of assistance. I however must go and inform the other guest students.” And with that he walks off again.

“Dick.” mutters Dean.

“There’s a school store that should be able to suit you up.” Offers Balthazar.

“I don’t really wanna fork out for snobby clothes I’m only going to wear once.” Dean retorts.

“Of course not!” Interrupts Gabriel, “We can help, lend you some of our stuff. Everyone has extra ties so that’s easy. Then Castiel’s spare blazer should be about your size, Dean, and I have one that should fit Sam.”

“You have a blazer in my size?” Sam asks dubiously.

“No, it will be hobbit sized so that I can laugh at you wearing it – of course it’s in your size, or close enough. If you come back to mine between rehearsal and the concert you can try it on in advance.”

“Convenient, that...” Dean mutters.

“Well, you’ll have to go to Castiel’s house to try his one on. Cas won’t mind. In fact you’ll be most welcome.” Cas nods in confirmation with Gabriel. Dean stops objecting.

“I’ll just go home, forever alone then.” Balthazar says.

“I thought you said you had your own harem?” jokes Gabriel, “a ménage a … what was it?”

“Douze. So true, I’ll be having a lot more fun than you boys. But for now it’s time for you to go back to blowing your own horns so we can get this rehearsal done with.”

When Gabriel returns to his seat after his solo he whispers to Sam.

“It’s not my own horn I’m interested in blowing.”

Sam elbows him.

Dean drops Sam and Gabriel at Gabriel’s place en route to Cas’ house and promises to pick them up on the way back. Gabriel’s house is one of those big posh suburban places that are eerily clean – and eerily quiet.

“Dad’s at work, Mom’s at some social engagement and my brother will simply be ‘out’,” Gabriel explains, “but if it’s okay we’ll still head to my room because it’s the least sterile place in the house.”

Sam agrees and follows Gabriel up the staircase to the back corner of the house and into his bedroom. Compared to downstairs it looks like a bomb has gone off. It’s definitely not sterile – it looks like it could possibly harbour germ warfare. It’s a pretty big room and there seems to be an assortment of clothes, papers and candy wrappers over most of the furniture and floor. There’s a distinct smell of skittles.

“Ah – sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company this morning.” Says Gabriel sheepishly. “Just let me – um- “ he grabs the clothes and text books from his bed and shoves them in the closet, then straightens the covers and motions for Sam to sit down. Sam perches awkwardly on the edge.

“No, make yourself comfortable. You want a drink or anything?” Gabriel offers.

“I’m good, thanks, but we should probably sort out the blazer now so it’s out of the way.”

“Good point. You stay here; I’ll run and get it.” Gabriel says and disappears out the door. Sam takes his shoes off so he can bring his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed. As he waits for Gabriel he idly picks through the pile of objects on the nightstand: a half-eaten bag of Hershey’s kisses, a nearly full box of Wonka nerds, a copy of _American Gods_ by Neil Gaiman, the one ring, a driver’s permit with a hilariously bad photo, and Sam’s just scrutinising a printout of what looks like the Norse alphabet when Gabriel comes back and throws the blazer at him.

“Quit nosing at my stuff before you’re traumatised by the discovery of hard core bondage gear.” He jokes. Sam is in no way affected by or interested in that idea. Of course not. Don’t be silly.

Anyway, he stands up to put on the blazer so it will hang properly. To his surprise, it fits perfectly. Not too short, not even tight across the shoulders.

“Why do you have one in my exact size?” Sam asks, then actually thinks, then answers his own question. “Your brother? Lucifer?”

Gabriel nods. “Luci’s pretty much your height and he’s not exactly using it tonight, so I figured…”

“Didn’t you guys say he refused to play in the Orchestra alongside commoners? And now I’m wearing his blazer for that performance?”

“Yep. He probably won’t even notice it’s gone, but it’d be a nice ‘fuck you, bigot’ if he does.”

“Oh.” Sam says, a little uncomfortable with the idea. Gabriel picks up on it.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be fine. And I just meant – well, I love him and all but he’s just a big bag of dicks about some things and could be brought down a bit, y’know?”

“I don’t want to piss off your family before I’ve even met them.”

“Uh – heh – yeah, don’t worry. That won’t piss ‘em off.” Gabriel looks uncomfortable. Sam’s noticed he’s avoided talking too much about his family, and so far Sam hasn’t pressed it. Still…

“I should probably give you the heads up. My parents are kinda sort of really conservative Catholics…as in the Mary-was-really-a-virgin-and-you-should-be-too kinda Catholics. Not to mention Islamophobic, homophobic, common-freaking-sense-phobic… but the homophobic bit is the issue here. The whole traditional ‘meet the family’ isn’t really an option.”

“… Oh,” says Sam, again “that won’t…put you off, will it?”

“Hells no!” says Gabriel forcefully. “Their outdated opinions have absolutely no say in how I feel about you. Um, I mean –“Gabriel falters, trying to find the right words.

“It’s okay, I get it.” Sam says with a smile. He’s not sure how his Dad would take the news either, but that was more in a ‘he’ll get over it eventually’ way. But their parents were a bridge they could cross another day. Unless –

“Are they coming to watch tonight?”

“Ha. No. They’ve seen a lot of Host concerts already; the novelty’s long worn off for them. You?”

“Dad’s away on business again but we have some other people coming, close friends of the family. They wouldn’t care – about us – but that doesn’t mean they necessarily need it made…obvious. No PDA, basically.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Gabriel pouts but Sam knows he’ll behave. Or hopes.

“You can make up for the loss while we’re in private.” Offers Sam.

“Now there’s an idea I can get behind! - Or person” Gabriel chuckles. Sam rolls his eyes but lets himself be pulled in for a kiss.

“You know,” notes Gabriel between kisses, “you do look really hot-“he tugs on the lapels of the jacket “-in a suit.” His hands slide down to the buttons. “But it’d look better of my bedroom floor.”

Sam stops him there.

“That was _too_ cheesy, Gabriel. And it’s your brother’s blazer you’re talking about, you know.” Gabriel grimaces and drops his hands.

“Ew. Way to ruin the mood, Sam.”

Sam snickers and takes off the blazer, throwing it over the chair (not onto the floor).

“There. It’s gone. Problem solved. The rest is all yours.”

“All mine?” Gabriel presses, smirking wickedly. Sam realises what he just offered and the self-consciousness hits again.

“Uh…” he’s uncertain of what he’s comfortable with, even though it’s Gabriel and of course he’s comfortable around Gabriel but…still. Thankfully, Gabriel once again understands.

“I’ll take off only as much as you let me. But please let me start already!”

Sam laughs.

“Go for it.”

~

Gabriel doesn’t hesitate. He steps in close and slides Sam’s borrowed tie out of its knot, pulling the ends to bring their lips close before sliding it free completely. His hands move to undoing shirt buttons but still after only two.

“Bed.” He orders, pushing Sam, who goes willingly, towards it. When Sam’s knees hit the edge he drops to a sit. Gabriel pulls away so he can take off his own shoes and blazer, and then steps in close between Sam’s knees to kiss him as he finishes unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as it’s pulled off Sam starts on Gabriel, ridding him of tie and shirt with deft fingers while Gabriel tries to wreck his mouth. When they’re both topless Sam’s arms wrap around him and drag him down as Sam lies back on the bed. The drop becomes a bit more of a fall than a controlled descent and Gabriel can’t work out what to do with his legs since knees weren’t designed to bend forwards and basically it’s not sexy at all, the way they collapse on the mattress . It is kind of funny though and Sam breaks into this grin and his chest shakes with laughter and it makes him looks goofy but also somehow stunning, which is not fair at all so Gabriel grins too and then kisses the stupid smile off Sam’s face.

The way they’re laying isn’t particularly practical so Gabriel rolls off and climbs into a better space on the bed, Sam following. Then they can really settle into it, the careful mapping of each other’s torsos, the points that make them twitch or shiver or gasp into the other’s mouth and the right way to drag curses from each other’s lips. The soft spot under Gabriel’s ear can send a shudder down his back when Sam presses him thumb in as he bites Gabriel’s lip; the line of Sam’s spine arches under the drag of fingertips and catch of nail. Their mouths are hot and wet and impatient. There’s heat radiating between them where Sam hovers above him, until he can’t hold his weight up anymore and refuses to lay on Gabriel as if he’d crush him (which, please, he’s short but he ain’t frail) - so they roll over and Gabriel can rest his knees on either side of Sam’s right leg and go back to the chain of hickeys he’s determined to make across Sam’s collarbones. The shifting slide-dig-pull of fingers through his hair tells him Sam’s more than okay with it.

Gabriel would like nothing better than to keep Sam here and have his wicked way with him, slick him up and take him apart. (Technically he hasn't done this stuff with a guy before, but he's eager to try.) But he knows Sam's more reserved so he lets him dictate their pace. Sure, he'll push at the edges of Sam's boundaries, but he knows what 'no' is and Sam doesn't actually say it that often. Even though the drags of nails down Gabriel’s spine and the teeth on his skin are backed with filthy intent, Sam's the (relatively) innocent one here. Anyway, the point is that it therefore comes as a surprise to Gabriel when one of Sam's hands skirts round his hip to his crotch and - after a small hesitation - settles over Gabriel's kind-of-hard-to-miss erection.

"You sure, kiddo?" he has to ask.

Sam nods, and his hand squeezes gently and _oh_ that feels good and he can't help but rock into it. Sam gives a little surprised huff of laughter like he can't quite connect what he's doing with Gabriel's reaction - like he's squeezing again, rubbing his hand over the tent in Gabriel's slacks to confirm his hypothesis with repeated results (Sam's the kind of science nerd that would do that). Gabriel reacts all right, moans at the friction between hand and fabric and cock, seeks out Sam's lips to capture them with his own. They kiss, but it's messy and distracted and when Sam's hand moves away Gabriel only tolerates it because now Sam’s fingers are working open the button and zip of his slacks and sliding in. He rubs again, still over Gabriel's boxers, and his hand gets caught in the restricted space and can't move. Sam lets out a noise of frustration and takes it out so he can use both hands to slide Gabriel's pants down and off his hips, sliding to pool where his knees are on the bed. Then he resumes his attention on Gabriel's dick which Gabriel is greatly appreciative of, hand squeezing and stroking and fumbling to find the least awkward angle. Gabriel’s reduced to little pants and moans and 'Fuck, Sammy’ which makes Sam mutter 'Don't call me Sammy' half-heartedly but otherwise encourages him. Gabriel lets himself revel in the sensation, the heat and friction; the smooth-rough of skin and cloth where Sam's too shy to get into Gabriel's boxers but doesn't mind when the slit in them gapes open; the feeling of it being given by someone else, not old lefty. It’s fantastic and it’s Sam and, _God_ , he wants the kid to know what he’s doing to him.

"Sam, please, let me do this - I wanna make you feel this way." Gabriel pants, and Sam groans his 'yes'.

He goes straight to undoing Sam's pants, reaching around the arm that's still jacking him off but more slowly now. Sam arches his hips so he can wiggle the pants off them and then falls back down suddenly when Gabriel closes a hand over his boxer-briefs and around the long hot weight of his cock.

It takes about thirty seconds of bumping arms to realise they can't both do this at once, not here anyway, so Gabriel closes his spare hand around Sam's, lifting it off his cock and pressing it into the sheet so he can work. Sam's trying to bite back his responses, moans muffled by the way he's biting his lip until Gabriel adds twist over the head and then the punched out 'fuck' he utters makes Gabriel smirk triumphantly. Gabriel by this point is kinda sorta shamelessly grinding into Sam's thigh to try and relieve some of the pressure and the downgrade is fine if it means he gets to make Sam lose himself like this but Sam has other ideas.

"Wait, stop" he says, and then pulls Gabriel up by the hips until they're level with Sam's own. Gabriel takes advantage of the move to shimmy first himself and then Sam completely out of their pants, and then settles himself comfortably along Sam's body.

"What are you plotting then, big boy?" he teases, and Sam shuts him up by dragging him the last couple of inches up for a kiss and rolling his hips against Gabriel in a way that seems absolutely filthy and makes Gabriel shudder out the next breath. Gabriel ruts into the taut skin of Sam's lower abdomen and Sam thrusts up into the warm space where Gabriel’s thighs start to meet and they find a rhythm and fall into it. Gabriel could quite easily lose himself in the steady rocking pressure against his cock and the hot insistence of Sam's mouth on his own and he almost lets himself do just that but he knows, hopes for just a tiny bit more.

At the cost of Sam's mouth he slides down a little and it brings their hips back to level and with it he can ride his cock alongside Sam's on the next solid push. The thin layers of cotton still separating them are damp and clinging but it still feels good, oh so good as their hips roll together. Gabriel loses himself now, loses track of any time that isn't measured in the back and forth of a thrust or in the distance and speed with which he's approaching orgasm. And that's starting to approach faster, now, he can feel the tension building and the pleasure peaking and the way the shivers of Sam's throat under his lips tells him his breath’s getting faster and more ragged.

In the end it's a final gripping prickling pull on his hair that pushes Gabriel over the edge, into gasping and swearing and moaning; into some choked-off sound as he attempts all three and he tries his best not to collapse completely against Sam as he comes in his boxers but he's too busy riding the high to really succeed at that.

As soon as he can think at all, if not coherently, he feels Sam still desperately seeking friction against Gabriel's skin and looking at him with the kind of lust-filled bedroom eyes a whore would kill for. It makes Gabriel immediately shift on shaky legs so he can get a hand down between them and pull Sam's aching cock out of its confines so he can pull him over the edge. It doesn't take long with a skilful wrist to have Sam coming apart underneath him and the wrecked moan Sam lets out is music to his ears.

~

Sam relishes the blissful haze of orgasm as he lays flat out and spent with Gabriel still in his lap, waiting for him to come to. When he opens his eyes he can see Gabriel contemplating the streaks of come across his stomach and the embarrassment of exposure that was somewhat lacking earlier decides to make an appearance. He can feel the flush in his cheeks rise. Then Gabriel looks up, keeps his eyes on Sam’s, drags two fingers through Sam’s come and slips them into his mouth. He makes the act pornographically obscene, Sam’s breath catching and his cock trying to take interest again, before he ruins it by pulling a sharp grimace.

“Fuck! Urgh. How can something supposedly filled with sugar taste so gross? Seriously, what the hell, oh man I feel sorry for the girls I asked to swallow why would they even –“

He stops suddenly when he sees the glare on Sam’s face.

“Sorry! Shouldn’t have said that I’ll shut up now yes,” he gabbles, hastily backtracking. Sam’s expression softens.

“Can you find me something else to clean off with then?” he asks. Gabriel nods and hops off, heading to a door in the corner which Sam guesses is an en suite. He returns with a damp washcloth and slides in next to Sam so he can clean up the mess. The muscles in his stomach twitch under the cold touch.

“Would it have killed you to wait a few seconds for warm water?”

“You’re bitchy after you’ve come, you know that?” Gabriel tells him. Sam leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Sorry. Should I be thanking you instead?” He asks seriously.

“A little praising of my talents wouldn’t go amiss.” Gabriel replies, smirking at him.

“Dear Gabriel, I praise you for the unholy talents that God has bestowed you with.” Sam intones, deadpan. “That you may use your fingers to work magic on your horn and to lead innocent young boys astray-“

“Okay! You’re clean! Stop making me sound like a paedophilic priest!” Gabriel interrupts. “Anyway, I hardly lead you and I didn’t see much innocence. _Not_ that I’m complaining, of course.” He finishes by kissing Sam on the lips.

“Of course.” Sam agrees. “Now, I think we probably need to get dressed again.”

They both drag themselves off the bed, Sam to find his clothes again and Gabriel to just pick new ones out from his closet. Sam reaches his trousers first, pulls them on, and then realises there’s no way he can comfortably sit through a concert with underwear sticky from drying sweat and pre-come. Gross.

“Uh, would it be alright if I borrowed some boxers?” he asks.

“Sure!” Gabriel chirps, then rummages in a drawer and throws something to Sam. “Those should be your size.”

Sam looks at the underwear in his hand.

“Gabriel, I am not wearing red silk boxers.”

“But they’re so sexy, Sam! And real comfy to boot.”

“Give me a black pair at least.”

“No.”

“They’ll show through my shirt.”

“You’ll be in a blazer, and I’m the one sitting behind you anyway. At least try them on, Sam.”

Sam decides it’s not a battle worth fighting and slips on the boxers. He has to admit, the cool silk feels wonderful to his oversensitive skin.

“Okay. You win this time.”

“Success! Wearing my underwear already - that’s hot, Winchester.”

Sam laughs at the over-exaggerated wink from Gabriel and goes back to retrieving his clothes.

“Are we actually going to eat tonight?” he asks as he tries in vain to shake the creases from his shirt.

“Oh yeah! How did I forget food? If you’re okay with Chinese there’s a menu by the phone in the hall.”

“Sure, I’ll go check it out.”

“Would you mind calling them too? I gotta hunt down my spare blazer – there’re ink stains on the other one.”

“I thought I was your guest, not your housemaid.”

“Tomayto-tomahto, go order us food yeah? I’ll have 36 and 128. And anyway, I’m paying.”

Sam rolls his eyes and heads out to the hallway.

“You’d look hot in a maid’s outfit!” Gabriel calls from behind him.

 

Sam chooses quickly and places the order. When he puts down the phone he’s momentarily reminded of how eerily quiet it is – that is until Gabriel suddenly starts blasting music.

_I JUST HAD SEEEEXXXX, AND IT FEEELT SO GOOD (FELT SO GOOD)_

_A WOMAN LET ME PUT MY PENIS INSIDE OF HERRRR_

_I JUST HAD SEEEEEEX AND I’LL NEVER GO BAAACK-_

 “GABRIEL!” Sam shouts over the noise. The volume is quickly turned down.

“Yes?” he asks innocently.

“Could you _be_ any cheesier? Did you seriously just play the Lonely Island? It wasn’t even actual sex!”

“I believe I am entitled to invoke the spirit of the song even if I did not fulfil it to the point of penetrative intercourse. You’ll notice I also neither cried the whole time nor put a bag on your head, but I still think I can claim, ‘doesn’t matter, had sex.’ “

He says it all with such a fake air of wounded pride that Sam can’t help but laugh and let him off.

“You are ridiculous, Gabriel.” Gabriel shrugs.

“You love it.”

“Yeah.” Sam admits. “I kinda do.”

~

When the takeaway arrives it’s ten minutes before Dean’s due to pick them up; since there is no way Dean is letting satay chicken near his baby they scoff the food down as quickly as possible. Then they’re grabbing their things and getting in the backseat of the Impala (Cas is nominally riding shotgun, though he has gravitated more towards the driver’s side) and they’re off to the venue.

Thursday is a bit of an odd day for a concert, but the Host is popular with the local classical crowd as well as the usual audience of parents so the theatre is still mostly full. Sam’s nerves kick in backstage as they’re unpacking their instruments and straightening up their suits. He breathes deep, tells himself to calm down because shaking hands are a bitch to work with. Gabriel’s next to him and he gives Sam a reassuring smile. Sam’s still wary of PDA, especially with douchebags like Zachariah a mere ten feet away, but Gabriel makes sure their backs block out prying eyes before taking hold of Sam’s hands and quickly kissing them.

“Good luck, kiddo. You’ll be awesome.”

“So will you.”

And then Michael’s calling them to take their places and the audience applaud when they come out and it’s a little surreal for Sam. They sit down and Gabriel whispers “You’re too tall, Sasquatch, I can’t see Chuck again.”

“He hasn’t come out yet, smartass.” Sam whispers back.

Then Chuck does take his place on the podium and they start the first piece. Te Deum is bright and loud and he can hear Dean going for it on the Timpani and once he gets caught in the swing of it it’s easy to relax and just enjoy himself.

The set list is a mixture of group pieces and some backed solos. Michael gets the lead in two violin concerto pieces, bracketing the interval, but it’s Gabriel who gets to finish the concert with his Allegro. It makes Sam smile to think that although it’s not quite the apocalypse, Gabriel’s horn is signalling the end of the show.

After they finish and take their bows to cries of “encore!” (Sam is fairly certain that’s Ellen and Jo shouting; the rest of the audience probably knows encores aren’t a tradition in classical concerts but even if those two do know they wouldn’t care) the orchestra exit backstage and pack their instruments away. Sam seeks out Chuck and thanks him for the last 9 weeks; finds Balthazar and Castiel and says goodbye; sees Dean and points him in the direction of Cas, saying he’ll meet him outside; then seeks out Gabriel and pulls him round the corner of the corridor to kiss him and tell him how amazing he was.

“I was, wasn’t I?” Gabriel agrees. And Sam doesn’t care because right now he is really fucking proud of his boyfriend, okay?

In fact he’s so proud that he thinks ‘to hell with it’ and holds Gabriel’s hand as they walk through backstage and out the stage door to meet the hoard of parents and students meeting and leaving. They get a few looks from Zachariah and such, but Sam isn’t worried about them picking on Gabriel: the trickster would love an excuse to put any assholes in their place.

When they reach Sam’s substitute family they’re still holding hands and Sam introduces Gabriel. Ellen and Bobby both raise an eyebrow and say nothing but compliments on the performance. Jo stands a step back and makes heart shapes with her hands that frame them when she looks through, giggling. Sam sticks his tongue out at her until she changes angle and Sam looks round to see her aiming them at Cas and Dean even though they’re just standing there talking. (Okay, they’re standing about 5 inches apart and not breaking eye contact, so Jo has a point).

Finally the others leave, promising to meet them back at their house. Sam will have to pull Dean away so they can take the Impala home, but first he says goodbye to his boyfriend.

“It’s going to be weird not seeing you in orchestra every week.” He tells Gabriel.

“Yeah, but you’ll still see me, more than weekly if I have any say. You’re not getting rid of me that easily!”

“I wouldn’t want to,” Sam tells him, “and I really really should not inflate your ego any further, but you were awesome today.”

“Well, you were amazing too, you know. You should focus on that instead – I can blow my own horn wonderfully already.”

“I know, I heard,” Sam grins, and kisses Gabriel goodbye. He starts to walk away, then has one last thought and turns to murmur it into Gabriel’s ear.

“Maybe next time I can blow it for you.”

  

**THE END.**

YES, I ENDED ON A HIDEOUS PUN.

I’M NOT SORRY.


	11. BONUS FEATURES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add translations to the performance directions I used as chapter titles and list some of the pieces from the fic, so if there happened to be someone who cared, have a bonus features chapter!

**Title Translations**

 Translations are done in terms of performance directions. Primo and Finale are probably self-explanatory, but the others are:

  * **Poco a poco -** little by little
  * **Scherzando** – playfully
  * **Adagio** – at a slow pace, literally means “at ease”
  * **Giocoso** – merrily
  * **Sforzando** – with sudden emphasis (which tends to mean suddenly loud as well)
  * **Allegro ma non troppo** – fast, but not too fast
  * **Coda** – indicates where you jump to another section in the music that is marked with a coda symbol
  * **Dolce** – sweetly
  * **Lusingando** – coaxing, in a sweet and persuasive style (or, “to play in an intimate manner”) 



 

**Track List:**

Compliled into a youtube playlist [here](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIuppsL4_i9-tt09omSffaXPnD-s66VqC), listed individually below.

  * [Pachelbel's Canon in D](http://youtu.be/XaSqRCLDe6M)
  * [Pachelbel Rant](http://youtu.be/JdxkVQy7QLM) (this inspired Castiel's rant)
  * [Orchestral version of Daft Punk's 'Stronger'](http://youtu.be/jJah5yqXOOs)
  * [Te Deum](http://youtu.be/UnQj8zBnY7g)
  * [Mozart's Horn Concerto No.4](http://youtu.be/L_TrR2uH3T4) (Rondo & Allegro Vivace movements)
  * [Aragonaise](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCCLiuOQF88&feature=share&list=PLEB04051CBB434449http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCCLiuOQF88) from Bizet's Carmen
  * [Kabalevsky's Op. 48 Violin Concerto, mvt. I](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onIjUnLFmeM) (One of the pieces Michael would have led)
  * [The Shire](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qy-OP9rGFJE) soundtrack from LOTR



 

Mostly these are just pieces I like and therefore included in the story, so they aren't going to necessarily be a good set together. But they are good.

 

**And once more, the minibang is[here](http://sabriel-mini.livejournal.com/) and the art for this fic is [here](http://strikertrick.livejournal.com/4112.html).**

 

If anyone read this far, kudos to you!


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